The Cousin and The Fiance
by Mrs. Morzansson
Summary: PostEldest though starts b4 Burning Plains. Have you ever thought Katrina just MIGHT fall for someone else? After all, when you're trapped in a hellhole because of your fiance, it's easy to fall for another. But what if it's your fiance's cousin? R&R!
1. Phlegm

A/N: Woah

**A/N:** Woah! Okay, I promised I would write a simple Murtagh/Katrina story, so here it is! Like I said, it's SIMPLE. Plot's not sophisticated or anything like that. I plan on it beind kind of short. Anywho, here you go! And btw, I'm too lazy to get my book, so spelling may be terrible! Just to warn you…

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon nor any of the characters from it, but I can fantasize about Murtagh being alive, right? Right? RIGHT?! **

Chapter 1 - Phlegm

Murtagh sat upon Thorn. His hamstrings and gluteus ached from riding nonstop for hours on end; he had just spent a relaxing time in the sky. Just him and Thorn in the wilderness - with _no_ Galbatorix. He wished it to always stay that way, but of course fate was not as kind. He was just glided over Dras-Leona, Thorn's wine red scales glimmering in the pinkish orange sunset, when an intense cool pressure massaged his brain.

_Murtagh,_ growled an ever-so-familiar voice in his head. The darkness and evil within it made him shudder. Why was he not used to it by now? Had it not been but a year now that he dealt with the king's mind touch his, yet it still felt like a cold cell with no blanket - cold, empty, lonely, cruel.

_Yes, master?_ He brown-nosed. _What now?_

_Watch you're tone, you ungrateful apprentice,_ hissed the king. _While you're in Dras-Leona,_ _I have a mission for you._

Murtagh sighed. _What now? _Remembering his manners, he added, _Your Highness?_

_Better,_ chimed Galbatorix. _Ga'nga eom Helgrind un waisevinr du alfrinn dauthlieker. _Go to Helgrind and befriend the women prisoner. _It should be easy for you, what with all your charm._

_Yes, ebrithil,_ he responded with the usual hollowness.

_Quit wallowing in self pity,_ threatened the master.

_Yes, ebrithil._ He sounded brainwashed lately. Which, he supposed, may be the case.

He had been thinking a great deal about that lately - had he been brainwashed? Long ago, he had been, but he saw the error in his ways and fled. Yet, Galbatorix wove the same story, same unrealistic _paradise_ he had believed earlier, and now he was pursuing such a ridiculous fairy tale land. _But it won't be a fairy tale for much longer,_ he justified. _What is killing one stranger for the greater good of an entire nation?_

_Are you okay?_ came Thorn's voice.

_Yes, Thorn,_ responded Murtagh. _Pull up to Helgrind._

The feeling of shock from Thorn that reached Murtagh was unmistakable. He related to his dragon his master's message.

_A prisoner,_ thought Thorn. _Fascinating…_ They soared their way above the littered streets in the city of Dras-Leona, landing on the rocky surface at the mouth of Helgrind. Murtagh hoped off Thorn, stroked his muscular dragon in a farewell gesture, then headed off into the cave.

Inside was damp and cold. He felt sorry for whatever prisoner he was instructed to befriend, not only because of the harsh conditions in which they suffered, but also most likely the reason he was suppose to become aquainted with them. "Raz'ac!" he bellowed in his low voice. "Master Murtagh calls upon you."

Two demonic figures jumped out of the shadows and landed on either side of the red rider. Fear enveloped him, but he had been well trained to conceal it.

"You beckoned, masssssster?" cooed the Raz'ac to his left.

"Yes," he said in a stern voice. "I have orders to visit the lady prisoner you hold here."

The Raz'ac hissed with what must have been a chuckle. "Ah, yes. Come with me." The Raz'ac escorted him down a corridor with dripping water dampening the walls and dried blood on the floor. They walked for what seemed like hours, Murtagh trying his best not to shudder at the sanitation level Helgrind endured. But then, he had survived much worse.

The Raz'ac halted at one of the cell doors. "Here you are, sssssssir."

"Thank-You," Murtagh managed to say, though he did not mean it at the least. He hesitantly turned the knob. The rusty metal door caked with dried blood creaked open to see a cell without a much better atmosphere. A woman with her arms suspended in the air and her head limp sat motionless against one dark, smelly wall.

Murtagh hesitantly walked towards her.

The woman unexpectantly launched off the wall grunting like a wild creature and barring her teeth, hissing venomously, only to be yanked back by the chains holding her arms. "Get out!" she hissed, her eyes crazed and her brown hair unruly. "I said get out!"

Murtagh took a step back to back out of her line of fire. "My name is Murtagh," he said. "I'm here to help you."

The woman chuckled mockingly. "Me?" She stood up as far as the metal clasps would let her and stretched her neck. She made a gurgling noise and hacked some phlegm in Murtagh's face.

"Ugh!" Murtagh wiped the disgusting mucus away and stared at her, trying to control his rage. "Look, I'm just here to help you."

"Get out of here! And tell your lovely friend the king he can screw his own ass for all I care!"

Murtagh was silent for a second, than he laughed loudly.

"_What_ is so funny about that?" pestered the woman.

Murtagh ceased laughing and said, "I like you."

The woman just blinked. "I spat phlegm in your face, and all you can say is, 'I _like _you?'"

Murtagh shrugged and gave a stupid grin. "You have a flame in you. I admire that."

"I don't want your admiration! I just desire to go home! They locked me in here as bait. I'm innocent! I just want to g-g-g-" She began sobbing and sank to the floor, utterly exhausted.

Murtagh couldn't help but feel pity for her. He slowly made his way to the shuddering figure of the woman and squatted down in front of her. "Don't cry."

"W-Why not!" she huffed.

"Because," replied Murtagh truthfully. "I can't stand it when woman cry. I don't know what to do."

This just made her bawl harder.

Panicking, Murtagh tried a different tactic. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Katrina," she choked. "Sloan is my father. I don't know where he is or if he's even alive."

Murtagh nervously placed a hand on her shoulder. Relief spread through him when she didn't snap at him. "Look…" He didn't know what to do. Sure, he expected her to be a miserable wreck, but he didn't know how to react womanly emotions! He was a man who rarely cried if ever. "I don't know what to tell you. What do you want me to say?"

"Why a-are y-you here?" Katrina sniffed.

Murtagh sighed deeply. "Just to let you know not everyone under Galbatorix's rule is ruthless." He smiled weakly, only for his expression to be exchanged for shock as he received his first clear view of her face. "My gods! You look terrible!"

"Thanks," moaned Katrina. "Just what every woman wants to hear."

"Let me heal you, it'll make you feel-" He was cut off.

"No!" hissed Katrina in a sudden rage-filled outburst. "What difference does it make? You and your little bird friends with foul breath will just beat me again! I want _nothing_ to do with anyone from Uru'baen."

Murtagh's expression remained impassive, but secretly she hit a rare cord with her words. "What makes you think I know the king?"

"Oh, please!" she said, rolling her eyes. "You come in here, scratch-free. The Raz'ac just _allow_ you in without question. Does that seem right?"

Murtagh smirked. "Very good. You catch on quickly. A good survival skill."

"Thanks," mumbled Katrina.

Murtagh paused for a moment. "What if," he said slowly. "What if I ordered the Raz'ac to stop beating you? Would you let me heal you then?"

Katrina was silent, chewing on his words. "You have the power to do that?"

Murtagh was unsure if he should admit to this, worried this would only cause her to have a sudden outburst again. "I do."

Katrina eyed him warily. "If you swear to have the beatings discontinue, I'll have you heal me."

"Will do. Upon my word." He repeated his words in the ancient language.

"What is that you just said? It sounded foreign."

"That's because it is," Murtagh chuckled. "It's a magical language in which you can't lie. I swore in that language, the Ancient Language, that upon my word I will have the beatings cease. Maybe I'll teach it to you sometime."

"Would you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

Murtagh couldn't say no to that face. He didn't know why, but something stirred within him. "Of course." He scratched his chin and inched towards her, no longer squatting but kneeling. He gently brushed his fingers against the bruises on her face. "Let me know if you feel uncomfortable. I'll stop."

Katrina blushed. "All right."

"_Waise heill,_" Murtagh whispered, Katrina's cheeks instantly patching up. He placed the palm of his hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever. "_Waise heill._" Her face was untouched and brand new.

Katrina, Murtagh could not help but notice, stared into the rider's eyes the whole time he mended her wounds. Once her face and neck were done, Murtagh muttered, "Uh, well, that's the last remaining exposed skin… Do you have any more wounds?"

Katrina nodded. "Several. On my arms and back and legs."

Murtagh furrowed his eyebrow. "Ummm… how am I going to get to those areas?"

Katrina immediately comprehended what he was applying. "Oh!" she said. "For my back I suppose you would have to untie my dress." She flushed. "Can we skip that one?"

"Of course," said Murtagh instantly.

She pulled up her skirts to her knees. "That's as far as my wounds go."

Murtagh muttered the words and she mended instantly. The same with her forearms, the only other spot she was bleeding. Murtagh just pulled down her sleeves for him to reach that area, with her being chained to the wall.

"Thank-You," she said. "Really, you don't know how good it feels to be better."

Murtagh laughed. "Oh, no, I do. Feels wonderful."

Katrina raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

Murtagh smirked. "Yes, I do. Maybe I'll tell you later? I have to go now. That is, if you don't mind me visiting again…"

"Oh, no! Of course not!"

He sluggishly stood on his feet, stretching his muscles. "Remind me to unchain you the next time I'm here," he said as he strolled out the door.

"Hey, Murtagh," Katrina's voice filled his ears.

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Sorry, you know," she shuffled her feet. "Sorry for spitting phlegm into your face."

Murtagh just grinned widely. "No, problem, Katrina. Women spit phlegm in my face all the time!"

**A/N:** So there it is! Did you like it? **REVIEW PLEASE!!** I'll update as soon as I can and when I get however many amount of reviews I desire! :D


	2. The Pond

**A/N: I'm back and ready for action, baby! I'm kind of having a problem getting started. I know where I want to go; I'm still torn between a few options as to how to get there. You know that feeling? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.**

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Chapter 2 - The Pond

Murtagh came to visit Katrina several times afterwards. At first he was only coming due to Galbatorix's threats on his physical being, but later he realized he actually began to enjoy Katrina's company. She was angered for being locked up against her will, had a rare, sweet quality about her, yet when she was angry she could yell up a storm that would make even a dragon flinch. _A typical woman,_ Murtagh thought jokingly. A feminine version of his own personality.

They came to know a great deal about each other, despite the many secrets they both obviously held. Of course, inevitably, Katrina found out what Murtagh kept locked the deepest in his heart.

"So where do you hail from?" pried Katrina in an unusually cheerful mood. Murtagh had grown on her, and she was eternally in his debt for healing her and banning the Raz'ac from any further beatings. Not only that, but every time he came to her cell he unchained her from the wall.

"Uru'baen," replied Murtagh emotionlessly. "I grew up in a castle until my father was killed and my mother disappeared. With them gone, I was sent to live in a middle-class home where I had a caretaker. My mother came to visit me often, but she died early in my childhood. When I was about eight I was brought to Galbatorix's castle and raised by my sword master, Tornac. I ran away when I turned eighteen, Tornac was killed by an archer pursuing us as we left, I was found, and here I am two years later, back in Uru'baen." He said all of this in monotone, as if he were reading from a often recited script. He left out the details, or his escapade with his brother he never knew he had to the Varden.

Katrina had not clue what to say. "I'm sorry. You're father dying must've been a hard beginning to your life."

Murtagh snorted. "No, actually. I hated the bastard."

"Why?"

"He ruined my life."

"He was only alive for a short time, am I right? So he shouldn't have had a deep impact on your life." She was silent for a second. "If you don't mind me asking, but why do you say he ruined your life?"

Murtagh gazed deep in her eyes. Should he tell her? "Because…" He sighed. "My father did not have a, shall I say, _saintly_ reputation. When people discover who sired me, I usually _escorted_ off their property."

Katrina gasped. "That's terrible! Believe me, I would not care who your father was; you hated him. He doesn't define you."

Murtagh was deeply fascinated with his shiny black boots. It was almost humorous how much more cleaned up he appeared than Katrina. He made a mental note to take her to a location she could wash up in privacy. "Yes, he does, Katrina. You have no idea how similar I am to him. In not only appearance, but occupation, personality…_alliance._"

"Hold on," backed up Katrina. "You said you were Galbatorix's right hand man."

Murtagh closed his eyed, bracing for the verbal impact and the typical spat in the face he always received when she placed two and two together. "Yes."

"Are you saying your father was Galbatorix's _former_ right hand man? And you are the latter?"

Murtagh kept his eyes closed, shutting down the part of his brain that controlled emotions. "Yes."

"Murtagh… What is your last name?"

Murtagh opened his eyes to see that Katrina did not have a look of disgust in her face, or even pity. He could not define the expression. It was a cross between anxious and gentle. "Morzansson. My full name is Murtagh Morzansson."

Katrina bit her lip, and Murtagh recognized the face: she was trying to calm down her wild thoughts before she spoke.

"It's okay, Murtagh." she whispered. "I don't mind."

Murtagh could not believe his ears. "Excuse me?"

"I said 'I don't mind,'" said Katrina. "But I must ask, why are you visiting me?"

"At first," said Murtagh carefully. "It was simply because the king told me to."

Anger and hurt distorted Katrina's face. Before she could snap at Murtagh, he pleaded, "But not anymore!"

"What do you mean, '_not anymore!_'" snapped Katrina, a new venom in her tone. "You tricked me into thinking we were friends!"

"I like seeing you!" he blurted loudly, his voice echoing. "I really enjoy you're company, and I can't bear to think you're only company are the Raz'ac! I am your friend!" He paused, breathing heavily.

Katrina was silent for a moment. "Friends don't lie to each other, Murtagh."

"I was not lying."

"And you weren't telling the true, either."

Murtagh stared at the ground. He was rarely one to feel guilty, but something about her made him feel like an ashamed toddler caught stealing from the cookie jar. "I'm sorry, Katrina. I really am. I swear, anything you want to know that I know, I'll tell you. I'm really, really sorry."

Katrina rubbed her forehead. "Sometimes sorry is not enough, Murtagh. I don't care your Morzan's child; I _do_ care that you tricked me. I feel stupid and hurt and ridiculous."

"So do I," said Murtagh, a desperate glimmer in his eye. "Please, can I make it up to you?"

Katrina chuckled. "How can you do that in this rat hole?"

Murtagh smiled devilishly. "By taking you away from it." He stretched out his hand. "Come with me," he said. His electric eyes shone bright in the darkness with unshed excitement. "Believe me, you'll love what I have in mind."

Katrina, unsure of herself, slowly and warily placed her dirty palm upon Murtagh's rough one and allowed him to hoist her to her feet.

"Come," said Murtagh, tugging her along through the doorway.

Katrina had not properly walked in several months. "Murtagh, my legs feel like jelly. I really do not think-ah!" She was cut off mid sentence when she tripped over a pebble.

Murtagh dashed to catch her, and she fell gently into his arms. She managed to stand straight again, but Katrina remained in his arms.

They were warm; she enjoyed the feeling of his grasp. Instinctively, she rested her head upon his chest. The beating of his heart reminded her of an unruly horse.

Both Murtagh and Katrina, as if realizing what they were doing, immediately shoved each other away at the same time. "You okay?" asked Murtagh into the awkward apologies.

"Yes, I am thankful you were there, or my face would be like my father's butchered meat right now."

Murtagh chuckled. The comfortable atmosphere settled in again. "This way." He lead her to the mouth of the cave.

A Raz'ac, its voice strained and courteous, asked Murtagh, "Where do you think you are going with her, massssssster?"

"It does not matter; I have Galbatorix's consent to temporarily take her away from Helgrind. Do you want me to bring it up with him?"

The Raz'ac growled. "Procssssseed."

Katrina and Murtagh swiftly moved. A gleaming overgrown blood red lizard awaited with a saddle. As he gained sight over Murtagh, he slunk his head and nuzzled his rider and ruffled his hair with his breath.

"Katrina, this is Thorn."

_Pleasure,_ said Thorn.

Katrina gaped, awestruck. "I have heard so much about you!"

"You want to ride him?" said Murtagh.

Katrina looked at his fearfully. "What? Murtagh, he's a dragon!"

Murtagh ignored her protests and picked her up, tossing her on Thorn's saddle. Within a millisecond, Murtagh was laughing at the shacked expression on the woman's face.

"You already saddled me in!" she exclaimed. "How did you do that so fast?"

"Practice," said Murtagh, jumping onto Thorn's bareback with complete disregard to safety hazards. _Let's go!_

Thorn kicked his massive feet off the rough ground and stretched out his long, husky wings. He talked to Katrina for nearly ten minutes, simply getting to know her, though he already knew most of what she said from his rider's thoughts.

Thorn gently landed in a small clearing. Flowers blossomed around them. The grass and forest was lush and beautiful, while the main attraction was a shimmering pond with a few fish swimming around.

Both Murtagh and Thorn watched in amusement as Katrina's eyes, now adjusted to sunlight, took in the beauty around her. "Wow," she gasped. "It's beautiful."

"Did I not say you would enjoy it?" pestered Murtagh teasingly. "I brought you here because I frankly assumed you would want a bath after all those months of filth and grime." Murtagh smiled. "Not that it does not suit you, being dirty. Not that I'm saying you are dirty or that you offend, because you don't, not that I would mind if you did-"

"Murtagh," said Katrina softly. "You don't have to explain yourself. Thank-You. Really. Just one thing."

"Yes?" said Murtagh nervously.

Katrina laughed. "I'll need my privacy." She smiled sweetly.

Murtagh let out a relieved breath then grinned. "There's an uncharted river a few miles away. You can either bathe here or there, and Thorn and I will go wherever you do not." He walked up to Thorn and shuffled through an extra bag he always kept attached to the saddle. He pulled out an extra man's shirt and leggings. "They might be too big, but if you want me to wash your clothes you can wear this until they dry."

Katrina blushed. "Thank-You. I greatly appreciate it." She took the clothes from Murtagh and waited for them to turn away so she could strip.

Murtagh covered his eyes and put his back to her. He heard a splash.

"My clothes are at your feet!" called Katrina's voice.

Murtagh, keeping his head down, retrieved the woman's clothes and scurried onto Thorn. He concealed his eyes with his palm to let Katrina know he was respecting her modesty, and Thorn glided to the river. After a few moments, Thorn landed again in an equally lush clearing with the sound of running water reverberating though the land.

Murtagh hopped off his loving dragon while still holding Katrina's clothes. He headed to the riverbank and randomly selected an item of clothing. "Damn, women wear too much, Thorn."

_Amen._

Murtagh chuckled and began scrubbing what he believed to be the corset, though he couldn't really tell. When it was clean, he hung it on a tree. He repeated the process with what felt like fifty skirts, each of which he stared at questioningly before he dipped the in the river. _How do you think she's doing?_ He thought worriedly.

_Fine,_ said Thorn, amused.

_What's so funny!_

_Nothing,_ chimed the ruby dragon. _You like her?_

_Yes,_ said Murtagh while rolling his eyes. _Of course I do. I enjoy her company, and she's suffered a great deal for her lover._ It occurred to him that he didn't know her fiancé's name. _Remind me to ask her sometime._

_No,_ said Thorn impatiently. _I mean, do you _fancy_ her?_

"No!" shot Murtagh.

_Do not take such offense, young one. It is normal for a man to fancy a woman, especially at your age. You are the proper mating age._

Murtagh shuddered. "You surprise me with what goes through your mind."

Thorn chuckled deeply.

After about five minutes of sun drying, Murtagh took the damp clothes back to the pond. They had been absent for a good forty-five minutes.

Katrina wore Murtagh's clothes. They were baggy around her waist, but were tight around her curves and, especially, her hips, as Murtagh couldn't help but notice.

"You look lovely," blurted Murtagh before thinking.

Katrina flushed. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Murtagh, equally as red. He shuffled his feet. "Here are your clothes."

"Thank-You, again," said Katrina. She inched towards Murtagh to grab her garments.

Then Murtagh did something incredibly stupid without thinking first.

As Katrina reached for her clothes, Murtagh intertwined her hand with his and yanked her toward him. The clothed fell from his hands as he slunk his arm around her waist and pressed his mouth against hers in a full on snog.

They both closed their eyes, enraptured with the moment. As they broke apart, they gazed deep into the other's irises searching for the bottom of the bottomless layers.

Katrina fell into Murtagh's chest, and he tightened his arms around her. Their embrace was warm and affectionate.

They romantic silence shrouded them until Murtagh huffed and said in mock misery, "I see to find myself insanely attracted to you."

Katrina chuckled. "Same." She pushed her sparkling auburn hair behind her ear, illuminating her lovely face. She reached on her toes to kiss him again, only to pull away. Her face fell.

"What is the problem?" asked Murtagh, worried.

"I'm engaged, Murtagh, you know that," she said sadly.

"To who?" Murtagh said, distressed.

"To a man by the name of Roran Garrowsson."

Murtagh's heartbeat sped up. Why did that name sound familiar? "Did he happen to know an Eragon?"

"Yes," said Katrina, surprised. "You know Eragon? He's Roran's cousin!"

Murtagh's heart sank.

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**A/N: OOOH!! REVIEW PLEASE!! Hehe, I'm so evil… Thanks to everyone that reviewed the first chappie! REALLY! It keeps me writing!!**


	3. Honesty

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A/N:

Damn, I'm sore… Okay, here's the next chapter! I'm gonna try hard to rid of typos for this one... I've decided to respond to your guys' reviews! Woot!

**GuardianOfTheMorningStar: lol, You may just be on to something!**

**JoshKlo25: Hehe. Evilness RULES! Yeah, I've been told that often...**

**Firedragon315: No, it's Sam. Thanks for the hilarious-ness, though. T.T (lol)**

**Canadian-Girl14: Yeah, that was my favorite part, too! Hehe. It made me snigger when I wrote it…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, just the plot of this fanfic!**

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Chapter 3 - Honesty

Katrina sat, chained in her cell about one week after the kiss she shared with Murtagh. She clearly recalled how he repelled away from her as if she carried some lethal disease. He had been nice, courteous, a real gentlemen, but at the same time he was being too polite, like a teenager forced to socialize with their family members. The last she saw of him, he dropped her off at the mouth of the cave of Helgrind and escorted her back to her dank cell. He bowed and dashed to his dragon, a thoughtful and slightly worried expression marring his sculpted face.

A pitter-patter of quick footsteps shook her out of her lonely thoughts. The noise grew closer and closer until the feet hesitantly halted before her putrid metal cell door. The hinges creaked, and Murtagh's head popped through the opening. "Katrina?" he said nervously.

"Yes?" said Katrina, relief flooding her. How she longed to hear that voice again! Her affection made her feel extremely guilty; what about Roran? She couldn't cheat on him. He loved her so dearly…

Murtagh inhaled slowly and steadily. "We need to talk."

"Why have you been avoiding me?" she blurted, unable to contain her torrent of bubbling emotions much longer. "Tell me"

Murtagh slowly pushed the door shut with a soft _clank_ as the metal pressed upon metal. First, he unchained Katrina as tradition. Then, he pressed his back against the wall directly across from Katrina and pinched the bridge of his nose. He slid down the length of the grimy wall until he sat on the floor with a soft _pat_, his feet stretched before him. He appeared extremely tired and worn out; his shoes did not radiate the typical shine, and his black sleeves were pushed up until the fabric protested upon further scrunching, revealing his muscles and tanned skin along with the webbed greenish blue veins that spiraled through his body. "Katrina," he said gently. "I know we've learnt a great deal of one another, but we both have so many untold secrets." He sighed. "I need to tell you something."

Katrina waited expectantly while the distant echo of the Raz'acs' chitterings bounced through the cell. "Well?"

"I doubt you'll believe me, but I'm Roran's cousin."

A silence erupted like a silent volcano. What was unsaid was more lava-producing than what had been. "I…I don't understand," whispered Katrina skeptically. "Why have I never met you? Why have I never heard of you…?"

"Because," breathed Murtagh. "I'm his long _lost_ cousin. My mother separated Eragon from our father when he was born so _this_ would not be a risk." He tapped his back meaningfully.

Katrina watched with flaming curiosity as Murtagh unbuckled his tunic. The tunic fell to the floor in an ungraceful manner, and Murtagh proceeded to yank off his shirt.

Murtagh stood up and pivoted around. The dim, dusty cell light illuminated a knotted white scar that trailed from his right shoulder to his left hip. The size was unbelievable, like the width of a sword's blade.

Katrina gasped. "How did that happen?" she asked, her right hand smacked against her mouth. "What…who…"

"My father," said Murtagh in monotone. He returned to his original spot on the floor. "When I was three, Morzan was drunk and threw his sword, Zar'roc, at me as I ran by." He wove a tail of tragedy: his life. He recounted his early years, then his expedition with Eragon, the Varden and his imprisonment, his meeting with Nasuada, his capture at Farthen Dur, his "punishment" for running away - though he generally skimmed through that - and, finally, Galbatorix's secret of his heritage and his blood relations. "My zeal for power has destroyed my already shattered life," he said in defeat. "I want the dragon riders to reign free."

Katrina was positively speechless. How could he be her future cousin in law? That she kissed! Not only that, but he believed Galbatorix's lies - the exact ones he ran away because of when he turned eighteen. "Why do you constantly pursue such a fairy tale world? You know it can never come about."

Murtagh twiddled his thumbs. "Because it _can_ come about. Once Saphira mates, the whole dragon race can be reestablished. The dragon riders can be born anew; their roars shall be heard throughout Alagaesia."

"And what do you need to do in order to achieve such a vision?" she asked coldly.

Murtagh's facial expressions immediately developed a somewhat ashamed but determined-to-not-let-the-guilt-phase-him turn. "Capture my brother at whatever the cost." He massaged his forehead.

Katrina glared at him. "You are _not_ the person I kissed."

Murtagh closed his eyes, exhausted. "That's a shame; it really is."

"I think you should leave now," she said with icy civility in her voice.

Murtagh snapped his eyelids wide open and stared miserably into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Set your priorities straight, Morzansson. Until then, I don't desire to see you again."

Murtagh nodded and hugged himself, rubbing his arms to get the blood flowing through his shivering body. "I understand." He stood up and collected his clothing, his muscled skin glowing in the small amount of light. His scar disconfigured his tanned back.

As he left, Katrina snapped shut her eyes, hoping to get some much needed sleep, but her night was filled with the haunting image of the knotted white scar. In her dream she touched it - the only rough area against the soft flesh of the rider's back.

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**A/N:** Okay, the ending was kind of too weird for me, but I kinda wanted a sensory kinda thing about his scar… sorry it was short; I hope to have the next chapter up soon. What did you think? You have to review and let me know!! **PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU READ THIS!!** It would mean the world to me…? Constructive criticism loved :D I'll update date when I get, oh, say, 6 reviews?


	4. Bad Hosts

**A/N: I ****FINALLY** (emphasize of finally) got 6 reviews! Okay, so here's the next chapter! In my opionion, this chapter is PAINFULLY boring and, well, it's a filler. (dies) So please bear with me. Review even if it sucks. (Hides face) The next chapter, if I do it justice, should be much, much better and less filler like.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Eragon, but I wish I owned Murtagh sometimes… Ah, well. A girl can dream XD

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Chapter 4- Bad Hosts

Murtagh hurriedly walked to Katrina's cell. The sun peeked from behind the hills in the distance as the morning dawned. He had flown all the way from Uru'baen.

Thorn, with the help of the kings twisted black magic, could fly over long miles at amazing speed, cutting an average dragon flight from Uru'baen to Surda from two days to one and a half.

_Thorn! I can't do this!_

_You must,_ answered Thorn. _The king demands it._

_I cannot do this, Thorn! It hurts seeing her and knowing how she despises me!_

Thorn mentally sighed. _Would you rather see her or be beaten?_

_Be beaten,_spat Murtagh defiantly.

Thorn was silent for a moment. _That is a lie, Murtagh Morzansson, and you know it!_

Murtagh closed his eyes, just wishing he could pass out right then and there. _I have been so tired lately, Thorn. I can hardly think straight._

_You have a battle later,_ thought Thorn. _You need to gain your focus, Murtagh._

Without realizing it, Murtagh suddenly whispered, "I cannot face him, Thorn. I can't do it."

A wave a comfort washed over their bond, and Murtagh felt Thorn's longing to ruffle his medium brown locks and tell him everything would be okay.

But everything wouldn't be okay. They both knew it. Because, in fact, tomorrow would be the day in which the world discovered Murtagh's treachery. It would be the day he would kill Hrothgar, torture the dwarves emotionally, and seal his death sentence.

It would be the day he would capture Eragon.

Murtagh inhaled steadily and pushed open the creaky door, his armor rattling and occasionally squeaking with his body movements. He did not bother closing the door; he would only be on the premises for a few moments. He tried to avoid Katrina's uncannily icy glare. "The king orders you to be taken to the castle of Uru'baen immediately. You shall stay there until further notice," he said in a bored monotone.

Katrina peered at him and stuck up her nose. "I do _not_ take any orders from the _king_. Nor do I take orders from his _right-hand man._"

Murtagh, his eyes expressionless, scanned her figure and then stared at the wall. "You have no choice, ma'am. It is either fly back to Uru'baen with no complaint or argue and suffer the consequences."

"I shall _happily_ suffer the consequences!" spat Katrina. "And what might those be, may I ask?"

"Torture," replied Murtagh simply, focusing on keeping his voice smooth and uncaring.

Katrina snorted. "I'm _sure_you would love to torture me, Morzansson, especially after the little scene back at the pond."

Murtagh smirked coldly, trying to keep his face from heating with embarrassment. "I don't do the torturing, ma'am," he said. "I quite frankly find torture a vile thing. I don't take amusement in such sadistic play."

"Oh, so you find torture play, then?" Katrina sneered.

"No," said Murtagh indifferently, determined not to be overcome with the urge to embrace her and his upset, confused emotions. "The king does. _He_ finds it to be an enjoyable pass time." He didn't mention how he was one of Galbatorix's favorite dolls when he disobeyed, which he learnt by then was something you should only commit on dire basis.

Katrina tapped her foot against the dirty floor. "I'm _not_ going."

Murtagh growled. "You don't have a choice"_ Neither do I, in fact. I have to take you._

"Yes, I do, and I'm _staying here,_" she huffed.

Murtagh inwardly died. The headstrong girl! She didn't comprehend how terrible the king would be to her! "You're going to Uru'baen with me, ma'am," he said in a strained, polite manner.

Katrina snickered. "_Make me._"

Murtagh snapped his fingers and hissed something in the ancient language.

Katrina's chains instantly evaporated, but as she leaped up to flee she found herself weighed down by magic. As she struggled against Murtagh's hold, she felt herself being lifted into the air by invisible arms until she was in view of Thorn's massive body. "Put me down!" she cried.

The Raz'ac hissed in laughter, but immediately silenced themselves as Murtagh gave them a mutinous look.

"Put me **down**!" she cried again.

"As you wish," muttered the rider.

Gravity pulled Katrina down until her butt smacked against Thorn's hard saddle. "Oof!" She attempted to jump off, but Murtagh's magic still held her tightly on Thorn's saddle.

Murtagh hopped on his dragon, his face still in a monotonous set. His impassive features hid his true misery.

Katrina ceased her struggling, realizing it was futile. "You are cold," snarled the woman, but her voice cracked as she spoke.

Murtagh's face remained calm and emotionless. If one could pay attention to his features the way only Thorn could, they would notice that the worse Murtagh's scenario, the stonier, more distant expression he carried.

"I can't believe I ever liked you," Katrina still said, the hateful appearance steadily erasing from her face. "I can't believe I ever kissed you! I hate you! How could you do this? How could you-" She broke down and started sobbing.

_Let's go, Thorn, _thought Murtagh solemnly. _Please._

_Of course, Murtagh. Of course._The ruby dragon launched off of Helgrind, his scales glittering in the rising sun's warming rays.

Katrina's sobs had dissipated. From the back she appeared as merely a woman with beautiful auburn hair staring blankly out into space. But as Thorn lay eyes upon her face, he saw the tears silently flowing from her eyes, running down her thin cheeks and dripping off her chin onto her chest, leaving a wet trail. Every now and then she sniffed into the hostile silence, but other than that she remained quiet and miserable.

Of course, if Thorn saw her, Murtagh did indirectly.

Murtagh desperately wanted to comfort her. He was treating her so terribly! _I hate you! I can't believe I ever kissed you! I can't believe I ever liked you! How could you do this?_ Her words ran through his head like a raging river, leaving his heart drowning and his nerves stinging.

_I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!_

_Katrina, I'm really sorry,_ he longed to say. _Know I didn't want this; know you'll be much more comfortable at the palace._

They flew for hours with nothing but the wind and the steady rhythm of Thorn's flapping wings to accompany them, other than the occasional flock of birds. Eventually, as the sun rose high in the sky, and noon was at its peak, did they arrive at the gates of the dreaded, gothic palace.

Murtagh forlornly slid off of his dragon, stumbling a little as he did so. To his surprise, Katrina made no fuss. She simply let him pull her off of Thorn and walked to castle, her head down as she tried to suck up the tears.

The two made their way to the throne room as Thorn left for the Dragon Hold. As they entered through the foreboding iron doors, Murtagh was shocked to see the place so lit up and carefree. In fact, the whole castle's interior seemed that way. Like the king was trying to make a good first impression.

"Why, hello, Katrina!" jested Galbatorix. He smiled widely like an eager host should. "Pleasure to meet you! I'm sure Murtagh has been a lovely man to you, has he not?" Galbatorix smirked, as if there were some inside joke Murtagh was missing.

"Yes," responded Katrina politely. "He has been rather nice towards me."

"Good, good," said Galbatorix. "How about we have our little man over here show you to your quarters. Would you like that, Katrina?"

"Yes," sniffed the woman.

Galbatorix's face darkened for a split second, than he regained his lively attitude. "Now, now, is that really the proper way to address your king?"

"No… my lord," answered Katrina.

"Then why did you insist on speaking to me so?" replied the king, still grinning in mock merriment.

Murtagh's heart sped up. "Forgive her, my lord," he said in a quickly, trying to conceal his nervousness. "She has never been in the presence of royalty before; she does not know how to address one as… noble… as you… my lord."

"Yes, well," sighed Galbatorix tragically. "I suppose I shall let it slip this once. Tell me, Murtagh, did she argue with you when you tried to bring her here?"

"No, my lord," lied Murtagh. "She was wonderful."

"Good, good. That's what I like to hear. Now!" He clapped, making both Katrina and Murtagh flinch. "Take her to her new chamber, Murtagh! It should be the empty one right beside yours. We would not want our lovely guest to wait, now would we? That would make us _rude hosts._"

Murtagh nodded to the floor. "Yes, your highness. I shall escort her now." He gently grabbed Katrina's arms and directed her to the doorway.

"Oh, and Murtagh?" called the king after them.

Murtagh pivoted around, still holding onto Katrina. "Yes, master?"

Galbatorix's grin turned devilish. "Do behave yourself."

Murtagh shifted. "Yes, milord."

* * *

"Here we are," said Murtagh, breaking the icy silence that shrouded him and Katrina since they first exited the throne room. Two doors were beside each other: Murtagh's room on the right, Katrina's on the left. "If you have any questions, a small wooden door connects our rooms. You have the lock to the opening on your side of the door." He scratched his nose and watched as Katrina entered her room without saying anything. Murtagh handed her the key to her room and the door in between their rooms. "I must leave; I have a battle."

Katrina glared at him. "Are you headed out to capture your brother?"

"If everything goes right," he sniffed. "Good day to you, ma'am." He made his way to the Dragon Hold, his face as passive as ever.

But truly, his heart was bleeding profusely at the thought of the conflict in Surda to come.

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**A/N: Another chapter done. **I know, I know, it's really short and boring. T.T Hopefully this will be the last short chappie for a while.

**REVIEW, PLEASE! **Constructive criticism loved. The next chapter will take place when Murtagh returns from the burning plains. T.T Yeah, I know this chapter sucked. I'm really sorry about that.

I'll update after, oh, say, 3 reviews? (I'm lowering my typical expactations to hopefully make up for the crappy chapter. Really sorry about that.)


	5. The Guarded Chamber

**A/N: Okay! Hopefully you'll like this one more! **I received enough reviews, yo! Though it might take me a while to type this up, if it's as long as I plan on it being…

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon**

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Chapter 5- The Guarded Chamber

Katrina twiddled her thumbs in her new chamber. It was a cozy little room - a night stand, a bookshelf, a warm, full bed, an occupied candleholder. The interior was somewhat red, with blood colored drapes blocking out the sun when she desired an afternoon nap. The little light that filtered through the curtains illuminated everything in its path with a glimmering ruby tint that made them appear absolutely stunning.

The only part of her chamber that truly annoyed her was the little wooden door. It stood their, erected ominously as if a whole other world lay just past it. Murtagh had given her the key, and she had kept it securely locked, her defiance consuming her.

A week had passed since Murtagh directed her to her new quarters. Since then, he has made no such appearance. This surprised Katrina.

After dozing on her soft mattress and unsuccessfully sleeping, Katrina sighed and sluggishly fell out of bed. She stood up and headed to the hallway just outside her room. As she opened her door and shut it with a soft _click,_ she halted in her footsteps and shrieked, startled. Guarding Murtagh's door were two heavily muscled soldiers, preventing any intruders to come forward.

Katrina walked to them, her nose in the air, yet ironically as she spoke her voice was feeble. "Excuse me, but would you mind telling me why you are guarding Murtagh's door?"

The guard glared at her. "Galbatorix has given orders to block this door at all times until further noticed," he said in a no-questions tone.

"I would like to see him," said Katrina, simply to know why Murtagh required an eye kept upon him.

"Sorry," responded a guard, as Katrina assumed he would say. "I can't allow you. You need Galbatorix's permission."

Katrina nodded. "Thank-You," she said. She sighed and headed back to her room. As she entered, she shut the door and jumped on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "What could be happening?" she asked herself. "Did he capture Eragon?" Her expression turned cold. "He probably did." She sat up in bed and gazed blankly at the wooden door. Did she really want to see him badly enough to unlock it? She felt like if she unlocked the little door she would be getting onto a mess she would rather avoid. She couldn't quite decipher what "mess" she meant, but whatever it was it made her feel guilty just thinking about it. She took a deep breath. _I'm going in._

She slid off her bed and shifted through the drawers in her dresser until she found the key she hid there for safe keeping. It was a metal little object, nothing special, with a leather loop tied to it so she could slip it on her wrist. She meandered to the wooden door. She stuffed the key in the keyhole. _Just do it before you change your mind!_ She quickly turned the key and pushed the tiny door open… and almost fainted with shock.

Murtagh lay in his huge bed with the covers securely over his form. Sweat beads dribbled down his chalky face, mixing with the blood running down from his swollen bottom lip. His left eye was black and blue, and a dark trail of drying tears leaked from his closed eyes.

Katrina, out of instinct, raced to his side. "Murtagh!" she cried. "Murtagh, wake up!"

Murtagh tossed his head to the side. Then, suddenly, he let out a hoarse scream that would deafen any mere person.

Katrina tightly clutched her head, protecting her hearing. Once Murtagh was done shouting, her arms dropped to her sides. "Murtagh, are you awake?"

Murtagh's electric blue eyes flickered under their pale lids, all the color drained from the rider's face. "I'm sorry," he moaned. "I didn't want this…"

Katrina began shaking the dark haired man. "Murtagh!" she cried anew. "Murtagh, you're dreaming! Wake up!"

As if on cue, Murtagh's head began turning from side to side. A fresh batch of tears spilled from his eyes. He was _crying_ in his sleep.

"MURTAGH!" yelled Katrina, praying the guards did not hear her.

Murtagh's eyes snapped wide open as he looked around in fear. He eventually saw Katrina, and his heart sped up for a moment. Then, recognizing that it was not Galbatorix, he began to sob. _Suck it up!_ He thought to himself. One of Murtagh's several rules: _never cry in front of others._ The closest he had ever come to breaking that one guideline of his life was when he broke to Eragon his heritage, and he barely teared then, and now here he was, in a full-blown sob in front of the woman he kissed.

Katrina stared at him in amazement. "Murtagh," she said softly, compassion filling her as she heard his sniffles. "What's wrong? Tell me."

Murtagh could hardly see through the salty droplets leaking from his eyes. It was the first time since his mother died that he truly bawled; naturally, all those years of stored tears finally released themselves. Sobs racked his body, and his breathing was shallow and ragged as he desperately tried to stop his breakdown.

Katrina didn't know what to do. She placed an arm on his shoulder and stared into his eyes. "Please, just tell me what's the problem. I won't get angry or laugh, I swear." Despite the cold mist that shrouded her affection for him, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for the poor man. Tears always seemed to get to her.

"I-I c-c-couldn't d-do it!" Murtagh choked.

Katrina blinked. "Couldn't do what, Murtagh?"

"I couldn't capture him! I let him go! I-I-I" he broke into renewed sobs.

Katrina processed his words. "You mean…you couldn't capture _Eragon?_ You let him go… _willingly?_"

Murtagh feebly nodded.

"…Why?" whispered the woman.

Murtagh sniffed. After a few labored rasps, he managed to recollect himself. He tried to wipe away the trail of tears, but his bruised face hurt too badly, so he resumed his regular position of lying on his back. "Because," he said faintly, his voice swept away by the tears. "I didn't want him to end up like me."

Despite the situation, Katrina smiled. "Why didn't you want him to end up like you? Was it not your goal to revive the dragon race?"

Murtagh closed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion suddenly overcoming his body. Eventually, he managed to look at her with his unharmed eye. "It is not _my_ goal to reform the dragon race, ma'am. It's Galbatorix's. And I'm his little mercenary. I do as he says. When I told you my beliefs on the subject at Helgrind, I wasn't trying to convince _you_. I was trying to convince myself, to justify my future actions in my mind."

Katrina and Murtagh heard the voice of Thorn ring out in their heads. _He was trying to convince himself that his life was not as miserable as he believed it to be._

Katrina gazed at Murtagh expectantly. "Is this true, Murtagh? What thorn says, I mean."

Murtagh turned his attention to the floor. Then he nodded slowly, as if he were a child caught red-handed disobeying their parents.

Katrina grinned warmly. She gently stroked Murtagh's face, careful to avoid his bruises. "Is that why you were crying? Because of that?"

Murtagh shifted. "I honestly don't know why I was crying. I has something to do with Eragon, I know that, but it also has something to do with Galbatorix."

Katrina scowled. "What happened to your face?"

Murtagh chuckled weakly. "Galbatorix backhanded me." He tried to shrug, but agony washed over him, and he resumed his original position."

"He backhanded you! And it resulted in a black eye and a swollen lip?"

Murtagh, still staring intently at a spot on the floor, said, "No, just the swollen lip. When he slapped me, I stumbled and smashed my head against the throne room wall."

Katrina examined Murtagh. Only then did she notice how incredibly hard his form shook beneath his blankets, how his untouched eye did not radiate the usual electric glow, how his hair was plastered to his forehead, or the look of intense weary surrounding him. Without hesitation, she ripped off his blankets before he could snap at her. Underneath them, he wore a shirt and leggings. His boots and tunic were draped across a chair on the opposite side of the chamber, along with a new weapon to add to his collection. Katrina softly placed her hands on his chest. "Does this hurt?"

"A little," muttered Murtagh.

Katrina presses harder, but immediately pulled her hands back as Murtagh yelped. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "I did mean to hurt you!"

"It's fine," he mumbled.

Katrina carefully pulled up his shirt, only to be surprised to see his skin was completely bruise free. "How come you yelped? You don't have a bruise anywhere but your face."

Murtagh laughed humorlessly, only to clutch his chest in pain. "You obviously have never experienced torture using black magic."

Katrina smacked her hand to her mouth. "He…tortured you? Without laying a finger on your body?"

"Other than my face…"

"Murtagh, I…"

Murtagh yawned. "It's okay, ma'am. You can head back to your quarters…"

Katrina huffed and rolled her eyes. "Will you stop calling me 'ma'am?' It's too damn formal. Besides," she cupped his cheek. "We're friends again. Your love for your brother overcame your slavery."

Murtagh looked to the heavens. "It wasn't love."

Katrina gazed at him thoughtfully. "I think it was."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she responded. "_Oh_. I think you couldn't bear to think one of your last remaining family members would end up under the command of the king, so you decided to take the punishment and willingly let him escape instead of bringing him here to suffer. Am I not right?"

Murtagh shifted guiltily. "You're right." He lifted his head slightly so he could see Katrina clearly. He smiled stupidly.

Katrina blushed at the smile.

A silence consumed them.

Murtagh tried to sit up, but to no avail. He winced, moaned, and slid back into his covers.

"Here," said Katrina sympathetically. "Let me help you." With immense care, she gently leaned over him and placed her hand under his armpits and slowly hoisted him up, flinching every now and then when he whimpered in pain. Eventually, he became fully propped up against the wall by his bed. "Better?"

Murtagh smiled bashfully. "Thanks."

Katrina loved it when he smiled. Bruised or not, he was still unbelievably handsome.

"Do you… nevermind…"

"Hmmm?" said Katrina. "No tell me, what?"

Murtagh blushed. "Well, I was wondering… would you… sit… by me?"

Katrina laughed quietly. "Of course," she whispered. She crawled onto the bed and plopped down beside him, a few inches of space between their forms. "Happy?"

Murtagh twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm happy." A short pause until Murtagh finally said, "So tell me more about Roran."

Katrina smiled sadly. "He's sweet. I lost everything in order to marry him. I lost my fortune, I was disowned form my father, everything. Dad never approved of him. Something about improper raising and poor income."

Murtagh nodded, paying attention to how her curved lips moved as she spoke. "Yes, Eragon mentioned how poor the farm work was. He never went into detail, though: it was a bit of an unspoken agreement between us. I never told of my past, and he never told of his."

Katrina furrowed her eyebrow. "Why? I mean, why would Eragon hide his past from you? He didn't have anything to conceal…"

Murtagh shrugged. "I really don't know." He snickered. "Maybe my clothes were too expensive looking."

Katrina examined his outfit and chuckled. "yeah, you do dress nicely."

"I really do not care what I wear. All my life people just insisted on me appearing nice and rich. I don't know why. To gain respect, I suppose. If it was up to me, I would have just worn the same ratty clothes I got dirty everyday. Like most boys."

Katrina smiled anew. It amazed her sometimes how much Murtagh had survived, yet how he still managed to value life as some gift. Most people would wallow in self misery. A few would even commit suicide - so why did he still stay strong through everything? "Murtagh, I was just wondering. After all you have been through, why do you still love life?"

"_Love_ life?" clarified Murtagh. "No, I do not _love_ life. I consider it something you should cherish, but I don't adore it. I just feel like… like you only have one life, and you shouldn't waste such a gift. It's important to live everyday of it, not pity yourself and dwell on the past. Move on and forward, Katrina."

Katrina inched towards him, their mouths now inches apart. "Why do you think that?"

"Well," said Murtagh, forgetting what he was saying and paying more attention to the woman in front of him. "Because, from even my e-early l-life I've learnt t-to c-cope with…" He couldn't take it anymore. He bent closer to her and brushed his lips against hers, then pulled away.

Katrina glared at him playfully. "That's it? A peck?" She put her hand in his and pulled his arms around her neck. She bent in for a snog, and after a few minutes they pulled away.

Murtagh looked at her, dazed. "Okay, so you're good at making me head over heels," he laughed. He yawned once again.

"Go to sleep, Murtagh. You look utterly exhausted. When was the last time you were out of bed?"

"About one and a half days," he admitted. "Other than that, I've been in the torture chambers."

Katrina stroked his cheek. "Hey, go to sleep. Regain your strength. I'll come back tomorrow." She slid off the bed and headed back to her room.

"Hey, Katrina?" called Murtagh as he painfully crawled back under his covers. "I… um…"

"Yes?"

Murtagh's face turned bright red. "I think that I might… love you."

Katrina was taken aback. Love her? Did she love him?

The tension in the atmosphere was unmistakable, and it ripped at Murtagh's humiliated heart. He had never told any woman that other than Selena, and look what happened!

Katrina bit her lip, her emotions drowning in shameful guilt. What about Roran? "I… I have to go, Murtagh. Right now… I'm just confused."

* * *

Katrina stomped through the palace halls worriedly. Just an hour after her visit with Murtagh, he was probably still in thought about their last conversation. Murtagh. Roran. Murtagh. Roran… Her heart pounded and stabbed her chest. The shame and guilt was absolutely overwhelming. How could she be so terrible? She was cheating on Roran… with his _cousin_. One of the biggest sins around. And now Murtagh told her he may in fact love her! Oh, no. She went too far. She toyed with his emotions too much.

_If you love him,_ said a small voice in her head. _If you love him more than Roran, just leave the man._

_No,_ said a more sophisticated, louder voice. _You love Roran. He's gone through hell for you. They _all_ have. Ignore Murtagh. Stay with Roran._

Of course, the second voice made more sense to her guilty heart.

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_**A/N**_**: **Yay! Another chapter done! Unfortunately, this story doesn't seem to be going anywhere… . Which totally sucks. I know where I want to go, but the ending may end up anti-climactic if I don't find an alternate one… but I'm not worried.

I always find an alternate ending!

Jeeze, I hope this wasn't too short. I tried to make it longer, but… yeah. I hate romance. I can't write it…


	6. Taunts of A Rediculous Kind

**A/N: **Hey, y'all! I'm finally back! It seems like I haven't updated in a long time, but it probably was only, like, a week . I just watched the old television series the X-Files with my grandfather. Scared the SHIT out of me. I know, I know, I'm a wimp. Strange thing is, I can handle gore, thriller, and all of the X-File episodes, but there was just _one_ episode where this guys eyes were all creepy looking and… (twilight theme) Okay, sorry for the randomness. . **Thanks for all of the awesome reviews! And I would like to thank xlilypadsx for the recommendation (feels special) lol **Okay, sorry. On to the chapter! And btw, I would respond to your guys' reviews if my stupid internet wasn't down… curses that wireless router! Crashing my internet! AAAARGH!!

**Warning: Offense may be taken in the chapter. I do NOT hold any prejudices whatsoever against anyone for anything. Galbatorix just has fun putting Murtagh down even for things that DON'T matter. Just thought I'd make that clear.**

**Warning: Extensive cussing in one part of this chapter. **(slaps Galbatorix)

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Eragon.**

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Chapter 6- Taunts of A Rediculous Kind

"The king will see you now," said a skinny squire in purple, puffy clothes. He indicated the metal door to the throne room.

Katrina's heart was pounding. How could she have been silly enough to request a visit with the tyrant? A spur of the moment act for sure. She vaguely remembered how she was busy rampaging on how Galbatorix had broken Murtagh's spirit and body. The anger hidden within her burst at the thought of the man's torture - all the hurt she felt when Roran let her be taken away, how he didn't save her, how her comrades died in order to protect her village, how her father betrayed her to the Raz'ac, how her perfect life suddenly became so screwed up, the guilt stored in her due to the fact she may be in love with her fiance's cousin. Now, here she was, two days after her last visit with Murtagh, demanding to see the king. The hate and the lies and the tears made her act before she thought. Give the king a _lecture?_ Bah! Her most ridiculous fantasy yet! Why did she even get herself into this? What did she planning on doing, jumping him? She had a fire in her, that's for sure, but she could not face the king. She was just a girl, not an eight hundred year-old dictator with the magical powers of a shade.

She took a deep breath, desperately attempting to come up with some other reason, some other _alibi_ as to why she desired to see the king.

But none came to her.

Before she realized what her body was doing, she felt her feet shift beneath her and plunge through the throne room door like a fish out of water.

Galbatorix smiled at her. "Greetings, Katrina. Do shut the door, please?"

She hated being alone with the madman, but she didn't appear to have much of a choice in the matter. She shut the door; the metal was so heavy it sounded like she intentionally slammed it.

"What seems to be ailing you, young Katrina?"

"N-N-Noth-thing," she stuttered.

"Oh? Then why am I graced with your lovely presence?"

"W-w-well…"

"Is Murtagh being rude?" the king interrogated darkly.

"No!" said Katrina immediately. "It is just that, sire, I was wondering… why is he injured so terribly?"

"Injured? My best mercenary is _injured?_Dear me, I wonder why I have not heard." The king tsked, pretending to be unaware of Murtagh's torture.

"Well, sire, I happened to hear from the grapevine… that ummm…"

"Yes, young lady? What did you have the misfortune of hearing?"

"That…ummm…_y-you…_tortured…him… Not that I'm complaining," she said hastily. "I just wondered what that theory was about."

"My, my, who told you that?" Galbatorix chuckled. "Is _that_ what this is about, child?" He gently stood up. The way he did this, so smoothly and gracefully, almost had a dark aurora about it. It was uncanny. He strutted up to a weak-kneed Katrina and slowly circled around her, placing his hand on her slender shoulder.

The touch made Katrina shiver. It was so unnaturally cold.

"Dear, dear, dear, _dear_ Katrina. I understand your concern for the boy. Unfortunately, little boys can be troublemakers, and troublemakers must be whipped into shape." Katrina remained silent, to timid to speak.

Galbatorix stared into her eyes. He appeared so warm, so strangely nice, as if were a man in a mask. "Would you like to know what he did to be punished?" "S-Sure…"

Galbatorix sighed tragically. "He really is a naughty boy. A bit too old for spankings, though, so I simply bring him downstairs for a few days. After that, he understands fully what he did wrong."

Katrina shivered. "When you say 'downstairs,' I take it you mean the torture chamber?"

Galbatorix smirked malevolently. "You really _are_as brilliant as Murtagh thinks you are. Yes, that's exactly what I meant. He's a nice little torture device guinea pig. This week has been an exceptionally fascinating experiment- we tested out fifteen new torture devices!" Seeing her expression, Galbatorix laughed. "But do not think, silly girl, that he is harmed without reason. There is _always_ a reason for what I do."

Katrina was shaking by now. She was no longer sure if the quaking in her boots was because of the king's powerful air or her hatred for the man. "And why was he in there?"

"I'm getting to that," chimed the king. "As I was saying, your little friend, my little _boy_, decided to disobey me, his kind caretaker who raised him since his mother died. All I asked was for one teeny chore, and guess what happens? He goes out and purposely does the exact opposite of what I ordered! And you know what is the most disgusting thing of the whole scenario? _He brought back a souvenir to prove that he __**intentionally**__ went against my orders!_" The king was fuming now, his spite kicking in. "I asked for one simple thing, _one simple thing!_And the bastard couldn't do it! The bastard let the traitor go! He turned against me for the second damn time in his life! And for a stupid farmboy, that lady leading of that silly rebel group, and every damn treacherous animal in this country! The **bastard** _disobeyed_ me for _them!_"

"Don't call him a bastard," growled Katrina, once again acting before she thought. "He's not one." _He's fifty times the man you'll _ever_ be!_

Galbatorix glared at her. "Fine, then! You don't like the truth, that he's a bastard? Well, I'll tell you something, he _is _a bastard. Literally. Whether you like it or not." Galbatorix took a steadying breath and smiled. "So you see, dear Katrina, I had to teach the poor, confused boy a lesson. One he _wouldn't_ forget." The glint in his eye was dangerous. _You want me to teach you a similar lesson?_ it said.

Katrina, overcome with so much fear and hate, couldn't find it in herself to speak. The idiot called Murtagh a bastard. That was just _cold._

But what was cold was that it was true.

It was wrong, insulting a man for something out of his control. Katrina put on a phony smile. "Forgive me, majesty. I was not implying anything. I was simply wondering. I would like to thank you for giving me such a luxurious room. It's beautiful; I truly am grateful."

The king nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you're having a pleasant stay here, miss. Please do leave the Red Rider alone until he has made a full recovery If I hear of you entering his room, I will personally visit you myself. DO I make myself clear?"

"Yes, milord," said Katrina, imagining the horrors she would be faced with.

Galbatorix kicked up his heel and strutted back to his throne and sat down jestingly. He crossed his legs and tapped his chin, lost in thought. "Good day to you, Katrina."

"You too, sire." Katrina slowly left the throne room, but as she shut the metal door and was in the hallway, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Would she go see Murtagh?

She already knew the answer.

* * *

Murtagh snored softly. So softly, in fact, that it sounded like heavy breathing. He was aroused as he felt a body crawling over him. He cringed in pain as someone's knee made contact with his spine. "Ack! Careful, bad back at the moment."

"Sorry," apologized a woman's voice.

"Katrina?" croaked Murtagh. He agonizingly adjusted his head so he could get a better angle of her. "Is that you?"

"Hey," Katrina whispered. "Do you mind if I lay down?"

"Not at all," replied Murtagh.

Katrina slipped under the covers and scooted close to Murtagh, her chin resting on his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I'm alive, which is always a plus."

Katrina chuckled. "No, I mean emotionally. Are you okay?"

Murtagh gazed at her, then he attempted to shrug, but he cringed in pain. "I'm okay. I feel good, actually. I feel like I just saved someone's life." His face fell. "But to repay me they give me their hate."

Katrina cupped Murtagh's cheek. "Eragon doesn't hate you, Murtagh."

Murtagh sighed, not waiting to push the subject. "And what about you? Do you hate me? Well, not _hate_ me, but…"

"No, Murtagh. I still don't have an answer for you, though. I'm still confused…"

"I'm being so selfish," cried Murtagh. "I mean, hell, you're Roran's fiancé…"

"It's okay, Murtagh. I'm being selfish, too." She snuggled in closer to him. "I just can't stay away from you."

Murtagh smiled bashfully.

Katrina chuckled. "I talked with Galbatorix today," she whispered into his chest.

"Oh no," said Murtagh. He tensed. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not at all!" exclaimed Katrina. "He _did_ mention you, though. He used very…_colorful_ language."

Murtagh's face grew depressed and surprisingly hurt for a moment before he concealed it. "Did he call me a bastard?"

Katrina was silent.

"Just tell me, Katrina, I want to know."

Katrina looked into his eyes. "Yes, Murtagh. He did."

Murtagh nodded slightly. "I'm used to it by now." He sighed. His expression remained impassive, but his eyes revealed his emotions.

"…Murtagh? Are you okay? Really, tell me."

"I'm fine. I just don't understand why Galbatorix judges me for it; no one else cares! Besides, it wasn't even my fault..." The threat of tears consumed Murtagh for a split second, but he managed to suck it up before they leaked from his eyes.

A silence passed between them, a magical spell of quiet that both feared to break.

Katrina stretched her neck so she could get a clear shot at Murtagh's mouth. She brushed her lips against his as nestled back into his chest. "Hey, Murtagh?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I have an answer for you," said Katrina, flushing. "I think that I may… love you." It felt good to say it; it felt _right_. "I love you, Murtagh."

Murtagh smiled wholeheartedly. "I love you, too."

Katrina slunk her arms around him. She wanted to squeeze him in a tight hug, but his bruises reminded her of his current physical state. "However," she sighed, "That does not mean I don't love Roran anymore." Murtagh gazed at her. His eyes were tired, but they held a certain endearment in them. He adored her. Deeply. "You know, it _is_ possible two love to people at once."

"It _isn't_ possible to love two people at once and not feel guilty about it, though," she retorted.

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

Katrina's eyes welled with tears.

Murtagh looked at her, startled. "What's the problem?"

"Murtagh," she choked. "You know this can't last, right?"

"Yeah, Katrina," muttered Murtagh as he closed his eyes to sleep. "I know."

* * *

**A/N: **Another chapter done! I hope it wasn't too lame. Honestly, I have _no_clue if Murtagh is illegitimate. I'm assuming he is, but I don't have my book with me, so for the sake of the story let's say he is! You know what? I'm almost positive he isn't.

So let's pretend he is :D (I don't think it says in the book… like I said, let's just pretend he is. And if he ISN'T please tell me. Dang, I feel really stupid) (strangles Galbatorix) HE'S SUCH A JERK!

Oh, and I didn't mean to offend with Galbatorix's little rant, just to let you know. I mean NO offense to anyone, and it doesn't matter if your illegitimate. It doesn't matter at **ALL**. So PLEASE don't get offended! :( (Galbatorix just likes to taunt Murtagh with cussing and stuff…)


	7. Pain of All Types Part 1

**A/N: Hey guys!** Sorry about the wait! I've been a little hectic in my lifestyle lately. Okay, so I finally think I found out how to end it! YAY! -fireworks go off, cheesy songs strike up- WOOT! Okay, so here is the next chapter! And by the way, it's VERY short. I know I've received many comments on that part, but I've been so unbelievably busy latly that all I have time for is short chappies. T.T I still have my Summer Project I need to do and it's due in two weeks, so you know what also has been weighing me down.

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon

* * *

**Chapter 7- Pain of All Types Part 1**

Sunlight trickled through Murtagh's drapes. Eventually, the trickle developed into a stream, which developed into a flood until the whole room was drowning in the sun's warming rays.

Katrina awoke, squinting. As her thoughts became clearer, she fuzzily realized that she was lying in Murtagh's arms in his bed in Galbatorix's palace. Katrina quickly looked under the covers and filled with relief as she saw that they were both still dressed - Murtagh, in a worn out, baggy black shirt and trousers and Katrina in her under dress. She had removed her outer layer and corset late the previous night so she would be able to breathe, but she still managed to keep her modesty. "Murtagh," she whispered. "Are you awake?"

Murtagh cracked his eyes open, his arms securely around Katrina. "Yeah," he croaked. "I'm awake… barely." He made a motion to rub his eyes, but he winced in pain; Katrina felt his muscles tense.

"Hey, it's okay, all right?" Katrina wriggled her hands free of the man's chest and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Better?"

"Yeah," muttered Murtagh. "Thank-You but you did know I could have done that myself, right? No need to do dirty work." He smiled playfully, his eyes joyful and carefree.

Katrina chuckled and lightly kissed him. "I do not consider it dirty work. I didn't mind." She winked.

Murtagh flushed slightly, amazed at how the woman succeeded in mustering so much emotion he normally bottled up out of him. "You should probably get back now," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Unfortunately," rang a low voice from their left. "that will not be necessary."

Both Murtagh and Katrina froze in shock, humiliation, and fear. Their hearts pounded with accelerating speed. Someone had been _watching_ them possibly the whole time they were sleeping.

Murtagh lifted his line of vision as Katrina turned over to her side to get a better angle of the disruption. "Galbatorix," growled Murtagh. "Pray, what are you doing here?"

Galbatorix sat erected in a cushioned chair in the far left corner of the room. His legs were crossed and his chin rested in his hand in a very dangerous and thoughtful manner. "What am _I_ doing here? I simply came to heal your wounds, dear boy. I felt that you have suffered enough. The real question is what is _she_-" He stabbed his right index finger in Katrina's direction accusingly. "-is doing here. I specifically instructed her to stay away from you until further notice, my young rider. And now look what has happened?" He scanned the corset and heavy pink dress plopped beside him with mild interest.

"It's not what it looks like," began Murtagh. "We just passed out on the same bed."

"In each others arms?" Galbatorix raised an eyebrow in mock gullibility. "It does not matter what it looks like, Murtagh." He slowly, ever so slowly, rose from his chair and strutted over to the two sleeping lovers. He bent down above their heads and examined them both, inhaling their fear and adrenaline hungrily. He glared at his rider. "I requested, nay, _commanded_ for you to control yourself. You are the most disloyal mercenary I've ever had the misfortune of kidnapping, you little bastard." He lifted Murtagh's head by the jaw line in his forceful hand, demanding the man to stare the king straight in the eyes. Then, after a second of nothing but quiet, quick breathing, the king raised his opposite hand and struck Murtagh hard across the face.

Murtagh heard his neck crack as the palm made impact on his cheek. Blood dribbled down from a long, thin slice one of the king's gaudy rings had produced. Murtagh stared at the tyrant coldly, biting his tongue for the sake of Katrina.

Galbatorix, as if reading his slave's thoughts, clasped onto one of Katrina's thin arms and ripped her away from Murtagh and off the bed.

"Katrina!" bellowed Murtagh.

"Murtagh!" cried Katrina. The two attempted to grab onto one another, but Galbatorix's hold was too strong, and Murtagh, no matter how hard he tried, could not slip off the mattress to follow them.

Galbatorix's grasp on Katrina was so firm and tight the latter had a sticky crimson substance trickling from her elbow. Galbatorix swung his free arm around and wrapped tightly to Katrina's waist. So tightly, for that fact, that she could hardly breathe, let alone struggle. She began sobbing as she desperately tried to stretch for Murtagh. She eventually ceased her effort, and her tears thickened.

Murtagh took a steady breath. _Thorn! Give me strength!_

Thorn transferred all the energy he could afford to his rider.

Murtagh crawled out of bed unsteadily and managed to take a few uneasy strides until he staggered and slumped over, slouching by the bed while clutching his side. "Katrina!" he groaned. "Katrina…" His once happy and blissful eyes just a few moments earlier instantly morphed into a glassy, miserable stare.

"I have already punished you, young bastard," chimed Galbatorix. The hand holding Katrina's arms released the woman and instantly ran up to her neck and squeezed her throat.

Katrina choked.

"You're hurting her!" hissed Murtagh. "Loosen your grip!"

Galbatorix sighed tragically and gazed at Murtagh, a humorous glint in his eye. "Is that the proper way to speak to your king, young man? As I have said, I have already punished you for your pathetic excuse for a battle, and now it is Katrina's turn; she should not have entered your room after she swore to me she would ignore you until further notice." Galbatorix pursed his lips. "If you need me, I'll be in the torture chamber. Good day to you, Murtagh."

With that, Galbatorix swiftly abandoned his rider, taking not only one limp woman but stealing one of Murtagh's few rays of happiness.

Katrina was about to feel the most agony she would ever experience her whole life. All because of him.

And he was too much of a damn wimp to be able to run down there to the torture chambers and save her. He ran his fingers through his medium brown locks. He was surprised to see a knot of thick hair. He stared down at his palm, alarmed. He had never shed so much at one time before. It was not a great mass of hair, but it was enough to worry him. _Thorn… what is happening?_

_You lost some hair, so what? Young one, all humans shed every now and then._

_Yes, but never have I seen so much fall out at the one time._

_Who knows, _thought Thorn. _Your stress is probably to blame for that._

Murtagh sighed, and before he knew it, the sigh had turned into a shaky breath. He blinked in amazement as it occurred to him that he had been tearing ever since Galbatorix left without even realizing it.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, yes, yes,** I know, I know, I know. This is VERY short. It was originally suppose to be longer, but I decided to cut the chapter into parts. So naturally it WILL BE SHORT.

So, incase you have not noticed, the next chapter will be angst. XD Actually, from here on most the whole story will be angsty…

Anywho, **PLEASE review!** It would make me happy :P And yes, feel free to complain about how short this was. :( I'll update in, oh, six-ish reviews?


	8. Back to Helgrind

**A/N: **Yeah, yeah, I know. Long time no write. I've been on vacation since July 30th, and I have a summer project I just finished bt I still need to do my oral report, so all in all it has been one helluva summer. I'm really sorry about the wait! I hope this chapter will make up for it. : ) And I'm REALLY sorry if I haven't been reviewing your stories. I had such a fan fiction overload when I got home, I decided that I would wait until the next update of your story and just read all the chapters I missed then. Sorry! : ( ANd I don't know how to spell helgrind, for future reference.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon**

* * *

**Chapter 8- Back to Helgrind**

His footsteps echoed through the hall like voices crying out for help. The dimly lit corridors were so unusual compared to the latel y forced open drapes and illuminated rooms. The consuming darkness was foreboding; it sent chills up his spine and the hairs on the back of his tanned neck to rise. Gripping a metal knob, he slowly creaked open a door, spilling light on a damp staircase. Bit by bit he determinedly inched down the steps, trying hard not to vomit from the tainted stench so many men had grown accustomed to. He bit his tongue, reminding himself not to rush these things but that he would gradually get there.

Better to reach Katrina later than to plummet to his death and not reach her at all.

Alas, Murtagh arrived in the torture chambers, his physical pain beginning to numb from the worry he felt for his cousin's fiancé. _Cousin's fiancé._ Of all the people in the world, he had to fall for one that was already promised. And not promised to just anyone, but to his cousin. He wanted to kick something. Shit like this _always_ happened to him! Why couldn't he meet a single girl that loves him, have the Varden forgive him, and settle down? Life never ceased to amaze him. Perhaps that was the reason he had refused Eragon's offer on his head.

Murtagh halted dead in his tracks; the crying voices of his feet now only an echo, replaced with the screams of a woman. _Katrina._ The agonized scream was unbearable to hear; it made his ears bleed in time with his heart.

Forgetting his own injuries, he sprinted towards the source of the noise, passing numerous cells filled with people begging for freedom from the opposite side of the iron prison bars. The men, women, and even a few children all outstretched their arms in a pleading manner through the bars, praying he would not ignore their suffering cries. But Murtagh didn't hear them. His mind was blank; all he could think of was the tortured screams of the woman, so much louder than the others - which always meant one thing: she was being punished.

He rushed through the line of cells, his feet pounding against the hard surface of the grimy floor until he skidded to a stop in front of a door far beyond the cells. He ripped it open with the force of a dragon to see various torture instruments assorted in neat rows, hardly seeable in the blackness of the room.

In the right hand corner of the chamber Katrina sobbed in terror and pain. Her face was concealed in the darkness, causing Murtagh's imagination to get the better of him. What if she was entirely splattered in bruises? What if she had two broken legs?_ What if. _The thought haunted Murtagh.

Murtagh followed the sobs until he wrapped his arms around the sweaty body of Katrina. "It's okay," he soothed.

"M-Murtagh?" sniffed Katrina. "W-What are you d-doing here? H-How did you man-manage to?"

"I'll tell you later," he whispered, clutching her tighter as if he was fearful that, if he loosened his grip on her filthy dress, her heart would falter and her lungs would stop. "What has he done to you?"

"Not much," interjected the voice of the king from behind the two, making Murtagh jump. "I just started, really."

"What did you do to her," growled Murtagh, still refusing to let go of Katrina.

"Nothing," replied Galbatorix innocently. "I was simply kicking her in the stomach. You did not honestly think I would use all these torture tools on her for merely visiting you when I told her not to, now would I?"

Murtagh, is possible, tensed even further, still forgetting his own injuries.

"I have not even started the whipping yet," said Galbatorix. "As a matter of fact, I have not even pulled out the whip."

Katrina's breath quivered, and she buried her face in Murtagh's wildly beating chest. "I want to go. Please, Murtagh. Take me away from here." A rusty, sanguine smell circled in the atmosphere.

Galbatorix's teeth glowed a bright white in the darkness of the windowless torture chamber. "Did you hear that, bastard? Your little guest wants to leave us." Immediately, the white glowing disappeared. "Back to Helgrind." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It sounds like a perfectly suitable punishment for both of you to me. No need for the whip." He clapped his hands. "You, Murtagh, take your sweet and clean her up for your trip."

"Yes, milord," muttered Murtagh. He scooped up Katrina in his arms and carried her shaking body out of the torture chambers and back into the hallway.

The prisoners cried out anew and groped longingly at Murtagh's legs.

Katrina's grip around his neck tightened.

"Just ignore them," he muttered. "Please, just try to ignore them."

"We cannot just leave them here," said Katrina.

"Yes we can. We don't have a choice." They made their way through the hall and up the staircase. The light that hit them made both squint.

Murtagh still held Katrina as if he were painless. He kept saying small words of reassurance. "It'll be all right." He took her to his room and laid her down on the bed. He healed her bruised stomach and sat down next to her, his own pain starting to return.

Katrina sat up and gazed at Murtagh with sheer concern. "Are you all right?"

Murtagh, who had been rubbing his head, just grumbled a "yes," and closed his eyes. "Gods, I'm tired."

"Me, too."

Murtagh sighed and stared blankly at the plain ceiling of his bedroom. "We should probably go back to Helgrind soon. Say our goodbyes there, before the king comes and punishes us for not leaving yet."

Katrina twiddled her thumbs miserably. "I'll pack my things." She stood up in her newly mended body and walked through the door that connected her quarters to Murtagh's. Inside, she collected her sparse belongings she had gathered during her stay and tied them into a small bundle. "Wait a minute," she muttered to herself. She ignored the little bundle and went back into Murtagh's room. "What was I thinking? I am headed back to Helgrind; no need for packing. I will just be stuck in a dirty old cell anyway."

Guilt consumed Murtagh as realization finally swept him.

He was going back to give the Ra'zac Katrina. What was he doing? He could never do this! "You're fiancé should be on his way to get you. You will not have to stay at Helgrind for long."

Katrina nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I know. I was just thinking the same thing." The tears spilled over; Murtagh instantly rushed to hold her. They hugged for a moment as Katrina recollected herself.

* * *

The fly to Helgrind was unbearable. Both seemed to be lost in their own depressing thoughts, neither wanting to slide off of Thorn. But alas came the hour when the ruby dragon's muscled legs landed against the mouth of the cave to Helgrind. Murtagh slowly slid off his dragon, stumbling somewhat as he did so. He then turned and unstrapped Katrina from the saddle. Embracing her for a moment, he held her hand and escorted her into the cave, neither saying a word.

A black cloaked Ra'zac briskly strutted towards the two as they entered the cave's mouth. "How wassss your ssssssstay, misssss?" he sneered.

"Fine, thank-you," replied Katrina civilly.

The Ra'zac, his cloak covering his face, clicked in what appeared to be a snigger. "You have grown a fancy for the assister, no?"

"Yes," replied Katrina again, her temper on warning mode.

The Ra'zac clicked again, and he pointed a concealed finger down to Katrina's original cell. "Down that way, missss."

Katrina nodded, gripping Murtagh's sweaty hand tighter. The two nervously followed the Ra'zac down the dank corridor to a metal door that Murtagh had grown accustom to visiting a few weeks earlier. The Ra'zac opened the rusty door, revealing the smelly inside and the chains to suspend the prisoner's arms.

"Leave us," ordered Murtagh.

The Ra'zac, obviously against his better judgment, bowed to Murtagh and abandoned them.

Murtagh and Katrina shut the metal door behind them and embraced warmly. "I love you," whispered Murtagh.

"I love you, too," answered Katrina. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. "I'll never forget you."

"And I'll never forget you." He made a motion to pull the heavy door back open. The thunderous creak filled the halls. Murtagh took one last glance at Katrina and kissed her anew. The snogging continued; the two closed their eyes and kissed for only the gods knew how long. They were so enraptured with each other, neither heard the footsteps hurrying down the hall, nor did they hear the echoing footsteps stop dead in their tracks right behind them.

Which is also the reason both of them jumped in startle when a disbelieving voice cried behind them, "Katrina?"

Murtagh broke away from Katrina and pivoted around, staring into the faces of Eragon and Roran.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I sincerely hope it was worth the wait. And I'm sorry about the typos, as usual… Please review! I'll get the next chapter up ASAP, but I'm kinda on the verge of a mental breakdown, so it might take a little longer than I hope for it to be…PLEASE REVIEW!! Story's almost over, in case you couldn't tell… Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!! You didn't let me forget to update this! XD


	9. Just A Military Asset

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the wait. : ( But I am GOING to get this finished before Brisingr comes out, I promise! And I'm sorry I haven't been updating SN lately, it's not that I don't want to but simply the lack of time. I've got some good news, though! I didn't have a mental breakdown! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.**

* * *

**Chapter 9- Just A Military Asset**

"Katrina?" said a disbelieving Roran. "What's going on?" This was most positively not the way he was expecting to be greeted after Eragon slay the Ra'zac.

Katrina backed away from Murtagh, who was tensed in a defensive position. "Roran! It's not what it looks like!"

"I'll tell you what it looks like," growled Eragon. He pointed at Murtagh with cold accusation in his eyes. "The Red Rider is using her!"

"_Using her?_" snorted Murtagh. "Why in all of Alagaesia would I _use_ her?"

"You've always had your reasons, traitor," spat Eragon.

"And what 'reasons' would those be, _brother_?" said Murtagh, slowly playing out his final word so Eragon could receive the full affect of it.

Both the travelers looked terribly worn. Eragon and Roran both had dirty clothes and an exhausted air surrounding them. While Roran had a full beard, Eragon had but stubble. The younger looked so different than the last time Murtagh had seen him. He appeared so much older and more tired than Murtagh could ever have imagined him.

"You are not my brother," said Eragon quietly, but not so softly Murtagh could not hear. "You may be my blood, but I will never accept you as my brother, traitor."

Murtagh sighed mockingly. "Why must you always be the last to understand, Eragon? You know I am not his mercenary willingly."

"Spare us, Murtagh," snapped Eragon. "We all know you've wanted power your whole life. And now look at the strength at your fingertips! You have the bloody Ra'zac obeying your every whim."

Murtagh, his muscles tense, felt his hands forming into hard fists. "You know I have never wanted to become my father."

"If only you had become your father, Murtagh," replied Eragon. "You have become worse than him. At least _he_ only betrayed a cause _once_. But you? You have committed something many have been unable to do. You, Murtagh, are guilty of _double treason._"

At this Murtagh lost control of his limbs. His right arm whirled around and attempted to punch Eragon right across the jaw.

Eragon easily blocked to punch, grabbing Murtagh's fist in his own massive hand. He smiled triumphantly. "Do you think a mere punch will work? As I recall, you _have_ used your cousin's fiancé."

At this point Murtagh's eyes flickered to Roran, who was still dazed and in denial about the scene he had just witnessed. Suddenly, rage contorted his face as he flung towards Murtagh.

Katrina screamed and covered her mouth.

Eragon grabbed Murtagh's other fist and forced them behind Murtagh's back, leaving the Red Rider defenseless as Roran charged for him.

The impact of Roran's knuckles against Murtagh's nose was painful, but Murtagh had survived worse. As Eragon released Murtagh's hands, the man staggered and gripped his now broken nose, which was gushing with blood.

Murtagh growled and plucked out his sword.

Eragon tsked. "You never play fair, do you, Murtagh? Roran does not have a sword."

"I'd say grabbing my hands and holding me down as your cousin hit me is _highly_ fair. Besides, I consider it immensely stupid to walk into Helgrind without a sword."

"He has his hammer, but that will certainly not match a sword such as Zar'roc. Put down your sword, Murtagh," commanded Eragon.

"Why should I?" asked Murtagh, his voice stuffy from his bleeding nose.

"Because this whole situation is your fault, Red Rider. At least drop the weapon and fight in an equal match."

Murtagh arched an eyebrow. "You mean like a _fist_ fight?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes," barked Roran. "A fist fight sounds nice right about now. I'll give you a bloody lip to match that nose of yours."

Murtagh's face darkened. The clanking of Zar'roc hitting the rocky floor of Helgrind brought shivers up Katrina's spine.

Blood gushing down his face, Murtagh took a ready stance as Roran did the same, their fists raised menacingly. "Ready whenever you are," said Murtagh.

Katrina took a few more steps backwards into her cell as Eragon's eyes gazed upon the sight before him in undivided interest, a slightly depressed feeling masked by a bored face.

Roran lunged forward and swung his arm around to the side of Murtagh's skull, but Murtagh easily dodged it and shot back with a jab of the elbow in Roran's stomach. Roran huffed but easily recollected himself, sidestepping and taking a clear kick in between Murtagh's legs.

Murtagh caught his foot and slid his heel under Roran's ankle still on the ground, causing the latter to trip. Murtagh grinned at the red rushing to Roran's face.

Roran, filled with embarrassment, hopped back onto his feet and sent Murtagh staggering with a powerful bull kick. He once again raised his fist, aiming for Murtagh's abdomen; Murtagh easily avoided each blow, his speed gaining him an advantage over Roran's slow moving strength.

Roran turned to Katrina, the latter freezing under her fiancé's icy glare. "How could you do this to me, Katrina? You kissed him? Of all people, _him?_ This bastard?"

Katrina now returned her lovers lethal stare. "Don't call him a bastard. He's amazing and he sure as hell cares more about me than _you_ do!" she snapped.

Roran looked at her, stunned. "Excuse me?" he clarified. "Did I just hear you say that this traitor that you have known for not but two months cares more about you than your _fiancé?_"

"Damnations, Roran!" cursed Katrina, stomping towards him as the flame within her was tampered with oil. "If you loved me you would have rescued me months ago!"

Murtagh and Roran watched the argument, neither sure, what to do.

"Well please accept my apologies, but it does take a rather long time to lead a whole crumbling village to the Surda! I did everything for you, and I come to Helgrind to find you snogging that swine!" His face was like a tomato ready for picking. "I cannot even begin to imagine what he could have possibly done to you to win your affections, but what I still simply can_not_ accept is that you are defending the cow!"

Murtagh appeared affronted. "I may be many things, but cow if not one of them."

"Hold your tongue, swine!" yelled Roran, his head instantly snapping in Murtagh's direction.

"_Roran!_" cried Katrina. "_Please! Listen to me! _He has not used me in any way, I assure you! He was entirely honest and my heart lies with _him_, not _you!_"

"Bah!" Roran huffed. "He has cast a spell on you, no? He must have; you are not thinking straight."

"Of course he hasn't cast a spell on me!"

"What makes you so certain?" came a quiet voice behind them. Murtagh.

"Murtagh?" said Katrina, her eyes widening. "What are you talking about? You cast no spell on me!"

"_Yes,_ Katrina, I did." Murtagh sighed and massaged his tanned forehead. "You do not quite understand; when you hex someone, they are unaware they are under any influence. I placed you under a lust spell long ago so you would spill any secrets Galbatorix may consider vital information." His expression was stoic; his eyes were unreadable. "You still are madly in love with Roran. I just attempted - successfully – to convince you otherwise."

Roran grinned in triumph. "You see, darling?" he said, stroking her arm. "You are confused."

Katrina's eyes glistened with hurt and doubt. "You…influenced me…with…_black magic_?"

Murtagh stood at his full height, his nose in the air in a proper military stance. "Yes, Katrina. I did; I used you, and I am not afraid to admit it. You were nothing more than a warfare asset I was ordered to woo."

Katrina slowly trudged over to Murtagh until they were inches apart. She scanned his eyes, and there was no flash of falsehood in them. He was speaking the truth. Or was he? There was no honesty in his eyes either, just pale blue pools of different shades and a large, hollow black center that bore no emotion.

Had she really been under a hex for the past few weeks? No. Her time with him felt so real- it couldn't have been magic. Right?

"I used you," he said again, only softer so the full effect of the words could sink in. "I. Used. You."

Katrina refused to believe him. "You are lying, Murtagh. I know you are." Katrina gazed around for support. Her eyes landed on Shadeslayer. "Eragon! Please, you spent more than half a year bonding with him. Surely you can tell when he is lying!"

Eragon frowned. "I honestly can never know with Murtagh, Katrina. He has a way of cutting of his feelings from the world. However outspoken his words, his face was always careful."

"I for one," butted in Roran, "have to say Murtagh bewitching you makes complete sense in my mind." His face crinkled in disgust as he spat on his cousin's shoe.

Murtagh tried to dodge the saliva's path, but in the end his shiny black boot was marred with Roran's smelly spit.

Eragon sighed. "What do we do, Roran? Katrina obviously doesn't agree with Murtagh's reasoning; he must have done a grand job at bewitching her."

"Agreed," growled Roran. The anger began to distort his face again, and his strong fingers steadily inched towards the back pocket of his blue leggings. He gripped the familiar wood of his hammer handle. "This is for taking advantage of the love of my life."

Before Murtagh could register what was taking place, his right hand instinctively shot towards the obviously heavy and big object spiraling closer and closer to him. His palm glowed a magnificent red, and the flying object shattered into a million pieces. He smirked. "Jeirda!"

Roran flung backwards and slammed into the cave's wall about twenty feet about the ground, barely missing one of the many sword-point sharp, massive spikes that stuck out all on Helgrind's walls. He landed with a thunderous _oof_ and lay sprawled on the floor.

Katrina shrieked and rushed down to his side. "Roran! Speak to me! Can you talk? Shit, Murtagh, you almost impaled him!"

Murtagh frowned. "Instinct."

"_Murtagh!_" shouted Eragon suddenly. "_I command that you never touch him with magic again!_"

Murtagh snorted. "And how are you going to stop me, hmm?" He snapped his slender fingers and Roran rose two feet in the air.

"Quit playing with him," barked Eragon. "We both know it's me you want! Now let him down and fight _me!_"

Murtagh shrugged. "Very well." He snapped his fingers again, and Roran smacked against the earth again with another hard _smack_!

Eragon readied himself, and Murtagh followed suit.

"Knifr isaltri!" muttered Eragon.

Murtagh clutched his stomach. A thousand invisible flaming knifes stabbed every square centimeter of him. He strengthened his mental barriers to the point it made his head ache as Eragon assaulted his mind. The agony pierced his lungs, causing his breathing to stifle. His heart, which was also hit, felt like it was being punctured by millions of tiny needles. This all paled in comparison to what hurt most though: his skull. It was if someone had taken a nail and placed it on the top of his cranium, only to pound on the nail with the heaviest iron hammer ever made. _Focus!_

Murtagh took a deep breath. He could pass the pain. He's suffered it before; he could survive it again. Seconds melted into minutes as nothing but Murtagh's labored breathing, as he withheld his screams, could be heard other than the soft water droplets dripping to the floor. Absorbing some of Thorn's strength – as the dragon wrestled Saphira outside – Murtagh managed to moan out the counter spell and struggle to his feet. He inhaled, sucking in much of Roran's energy as he did so to rejuvenate. He would have stolen some of Katrina's life force as well, but he could not bring himself to cause her any more pain than he already had.

"Brisingr!" Dozens of tiny compacted balls of fire shot out of Murtagh's wrist like nocking several arrows at once. They spread out and formed a line aimed straight for Eragon. Murtagh hoped this would distract his brother as he assaulted his mind.

Murtagh dug deeper and deeper into Eragon's nearly nonexistent mental barriers until Eragon was on the floor, sweaty and unable to breathe, several minutes later. The hair clung to his forehead as he lay on the dirt, draining life force from Murtagh and Katrina.

Murtagh could feel Eragon stealing his strength, and he was prepared to muter the words in the Ancient Language to prevent further mooching, but just as the spell touched his lips Katrina staggered and collapsed.

Roran rushed to her side, shaking her. "Katrina! Are you all right?"

"Bloody hell, Eragon!" cried Murtagh with a worry filled voice. "You took away too much energy!" Abandoning but not forgetting his brother struggling to stand up, Murtagh rushed to Katrina and shook her violently. "Katrina! Katrina! Talk to me." He ignored Roran's glare.

Katrina rubbed her forehead, dizzy. "All of a sudden I feel rather tired."

"It's Eragon," said Murtagh, who was instinctively cupping her cheek. "Do not worry; he accidentally borrowed too much energy from you. Can you get up?" He stroked her hair, not caring that Roran was ready to bury him dead or alive.

"I swear to the gods if you touch her one more time-"

"It is all right, Roran," said Katrina. "He means no harm." She gazed into Murtagh's eyes for a long moment. And in that moment she knew he was lying for her sake; he had never cast a spell on her. He was in love with his cousin's fiancé. She slid her hand up from his arm to his cheek. _I love you_, she mouthed, her mouth out of view from Roran.

Eragon, now entirely forgotten, had successfully restored all his energy and erected himself to his full height.

It all happened so quickly.

Eragon, the guilt and sorrow evident on his face, muttered a few words under his breath, his right palm raised and glowing. He scanned the dark cave. "Jeirda."

Before Murtagh processed what happened next, he felt a heavy ball of compacted air pound against him and send him to the wall of the cave. He felt a numbing pain in his midsection, the most agony he had ever experienced, yet it was oddly soothing. Blood started dribbling from his mouth. He looked down. A large, rocky spike protruded from his belly. One of the massive spikes on the cave walls of Helgrind.

Completely impaled.

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**A/N: Okay! I hope that was a good chapter! Cheesy, I know. xD Did the cliffy make sense? I hope it did!! :P Anyway, one more chapter! **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	10. Pain of All Types Part 2

**A/N: Yay! So I'm back! Wow, I received several reviews last chapter. : ) I would like to thank everyone who reviewed! Sorry about the wait. As I promised, I would have the final chapter up by Brisingr's release date. But guess what? I lied! This is the second to last chapter because I didn't like how I ended the story, so I'm rewriting the ending. **

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**Chapter 10- Pain of All Types Part 2: The Game of War**

A blurry figure's labored breathing swarm in Katrina's mind. The rythmic sound, slowly becoming more and more off beat with every passing second, was all she could think of. She craned her neck around to see yet two other obscured forms. "Please," she cried. "Help him!"

Murtagh lay in Katrina's lap, his head resting against her shoulder. Blood cascaded down his torso; his vulnerable feeling was drowned in fear and agony. The sticky red liquid stained his clothes and Katrina's skirts, and it pooled around their bodies on the dirty floor. It was torment seeing it, smelling it, feeling it trickle. The blood circled him as if it possessed a mind of it's own; it almost seemed as if the blood knew Murtagh was it's keeper. Almost as if the blood was surrounding _him_ because it didn't want to abandon him just yet.

"Please!" cried Katrina anew. "I beg of you; heal him, Eragon. It is my one wish and request I have ever asked of you!"

"I can't, Katrina," said Eragon sadly. The purple canoes under his eyes caused him to appear gaunt and forboding in the blackness of Helgrind. "He may attempt an attack again; I cannot take such a risk. He must die, whether I like it or not. He is a traitor, and traitors are punishable by death." His misery was unmasked; his shame drowned in the constant justification that what must be done must be done – it was the game of war. He loved his brother like the brother he remembered sparring with every night on their travels, and it hurt to watch Murtagh in so much pain, but war had no sympathy.

Katrina's eyes, over flowing with tears, stared at Eragon with such an unmatched hopeless plea. Her brown irises completely hidden behind salty water, she clutched onto Murtagh like a mother would clutch onto her child. "Can you not mend him enough that he may have a chance at survival, but not so much he opposes a possible threat? I beg of you, Eragon! If not for me, than for you. You love him deep down. I know you do."

Murtagh's body grew stiller with every exchanged word. His breath, though ragid, was slowing and only coming every so often. His electric blue eyes were glazed over, his face was as colorless as snow, and he had hardly any blood left to bleed.

Roran watched the whole scenario overwhelmed. What would Galbatorix do if Murtagh died? What would the Varden do if he lived? He bit his cheek thoughtfully, the habit coming out when he was unusually stressed. The obvious choice was to let his cousin bleed to death. It could affect the war's outcome, allowing Murtagh to keep his life. But had he not spared Eragon's? Roran turned to his youngest cousin hoping Eragon may hold the solution.

Eragon returned Roran's gaze. It was clear they were both internally debating the same problem. What must they do about Murtagh? Eragon knew his indecision would cost his blood brother his life. He needed to act quickly.

Katrina still grasped Murtagh with a death grip- literally. "Murtagh," she whispered. "Please, breathe. Stay with me. Stare straight at me, and – no! don't let your eyes wander! _Look at me!_"

Murtagh gazed up at Katrina with recognition. His lips twitched into a feeble smile as his eyes altered between in and out of focus. He couldn't stay awake. What was the silly girl thinking! He mustered up his remaining energy. "Help m-me…"

"I'm going to help you, Murtagh, just stay awake."

Murtagh could hardly breathe, let alone speak. "Katrina…listen to m-me. I need you t-to go with Eragon. He'll keep Roran and yours-self safe. I need you to…if I die."

Katrina's eyes stung. "But you will not die!" she sobbed. "I won't let you! Eragon is your brother as much as I am your lover-"

"Come now, Ka…trina… Do you honestly think you loved m-me? You have not known me long enough to know if it was l-love or s-simply cold feet… You said you loved me, but I think that perhaps you were fearfull of matrimony, as many young ladies are. I am too undeserving to be your lover, just as I am undes-serving to be Eragon's brother." He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a pained cry. His whole body shook violently. "E-Even if Eragon d-did heal me, Katrina, I have lost so much blood… It is too late to save me."

"You…You are mistaken, Murtagh," she said hoarsely. "You know I love you, and you know I would not say something such as that to a mere person." She glanced at Roran. "I only say such things when I most deeply mean it." Katrina's neck snapped in Eragon's direction. "Please, heal him! If what he says is true, it should not matter if you mend him. Help ease his pain!"

Eragon's guilt became suddenly overriding. At the sound of Katrina's cry, he instantly sprang to Murtagh's side, the latter no longer having any color in his body. "_Waise heill._"

Murtagh's skin patched up, and he sucked in air like a vacuum. As he gasped for oxygen, he clutched his head and leaned back on Katrina's shoulder. "I feel so dizzy…"

"Loss of blood," stated Eragon, despite the fact he assumed Murtagh probably knew as much. "You have lost much blood, Red Rider. A fatal amount."

"I am aware of such," snapped Murtagh as he gently shut his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep, Murtagh," growled Eragon. "Roran, come! We must take him down to Dras-Leona to see a fully qualified healer."

"Are you not a 'fully qualified healer,' brother? You _have_ trained with elves."

Eragon frowned. "Roran, I'm afraid I can do nothing for him. He is beyond my tampering. All that may save him now is black magic…or perhaps if I knew his true name."

Murtagh shifted in Katrina's arms and yawned. "Nonsense, Shadeslayer! I'll be fine; I just require a small nap and the comfort of my dragon."

Eragon shook his head. "No, Murtagh. Stay awake!" He snapped his fingers and pointed to Roran. "You! Help carry him to Thorn."

Roran nodded, and Katrina gave Murtagh up to her fiance. His strength easily outmatched Murtagh's somewhat slight build, and he grudgingly hoisted the man to the mouth of the cave. Upon reaching such, Thorn growled and threw back his head, his eyes glinting manically at Roran. _Release my rider!_

"Hold on," said Roran. "We come in peace, dragon! We have no intentions on harming your rider!"

_That most definitely explains why his kind brother impaled him._

Eragon furrowed his brow. "Forgive me; I healed him."

_I'll forgive you,_ hissed Thorn, _If he survives._

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A soothing pressure numbed the back of his head. _Murtagh,_ it whispered. _Stay awake, Murtagh. Can you hear me?_

_Thorn?_thought Murtagh. _Is that you?_

_Yes, little one. You need to stay awake. The longer you are awake, the longer time we have to reach the healers._

_I'm past healing, Thorn,_thought Murtagh with a hush to his words. He smiled weakly to himself. He was vaugely aware of hands escorting him outside the cave. He could hardly process his surroundings. He felt so lightheaded and dizzy, surely he must take a nap. It would only be a small one, just so he could think clearly, but he knew if he drited off he would never drift back. _Do you think there's an afterlife, Thorn?_

He could feel his dragon's worry through their mental link that had helped him through so many hard times. _Do not think such morbid thoughts. Stay awake, and you will not need to worry about any afterlife._

He pursed his lips fretfully. _There is no afterlife, is there? You don't believe in such things!_

_I never said that,_replied the wine red dragon, trying to ease Murtagh's concern. _I believe people have some sort of place they are sent._Murtagh could feel Thorn's lie before he even mentioned it.

_Do you think that…if I pass out, I'll never see something? No light, no nothing? Just…Just darkness for enternity?_ His incoherent stress sent waves crashing through their bond. _There has to be something for me! Whether good or bad, I need to know I won't be trapped in blackness forever!_

_Murtagh!_ cried his dragon. _Calm down, young one! What will happen will happen! It is a natural part of life, and you must face it when it comes! You will never know, young one, ever. Afterlife shall be a mystery to you as it is to all others. There are so many religions, Murtagh. So many different beliefs. What will come about will come about; there is no stopping it._

_There is no stopping it,_repeated Murtagh. The words floated in his head, the sentence breaking up and scattering until it was just a jumble of words in his drifting mind. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He could barely process his conversation with his dragon. _My dragon…_ Their bond was deep, loving, brotherly. A companionship he had hoped would last him literally nine times the average human life time.

But now? Murtagh already knew: their bond together on earth would not ever surpass half of even _one_ lifetime. _What will come will come._ Maybe the supreme being –if there was one – that controlled all actions had planned on him dying before his time? Perhaps the dragon riders were meant to go extinct, to never be reborn? Was he just tampering with nature?

He distantly felt his dragon crouching over him, Thorn's hot breath ruffling his rider's hair and his tail circling Murtagh's form. He groped around some, his eyes lightly shut, until he felt the tip of Thorn's tail under his fingertips. He gripped it like it was his teddy bear, his protecter. And Thorn was his protecter in a certain sense. His rock.

He numbly registered a soft hand reach forward and grip his free one. Shakily, he cracked open his eyes to see Katrina's dark form hidden from the sun because of Thorn. "Katrina?" he moaned.

"Yes," she choked. Hot tears escaped her eyes and splattered on Murtagh's pale hand. "Please, Murtagh, stay awake."

"You know I didn't mean anything I said back there," he said hoarsely.

"I know, Murtagh, I know."

"I love you," he whispered fullheartedly.

"I love you, too," she replied, her cheeks flooded. "Don't leave. Please."

"Do you think there's an afterlife, Katrina?" Murtagh asked.

By this time Eragon had tresspassed under Thorn's wing, too, and was staring at Murtagh. His hope was gone- there was but one way to save his brother, and Murtagh would _never_allow it. He figeted, feeling awkward intruding on Katrina's time with Murtagh.

"Yes," she answered. She sniffed and wiped her nose.

Murtagh smiled. "Hopefully I'll make it there, and if I do, one day we'll be reunited."

Eragon bent down and interupted before Katrina could respond through her river of tears. "Murtagh, there is a way you can live, but it will require me knowing your true name."

Murtagh instantly mouthed, "No," but before he could voice his opinion Thorn chided to Eragon, _What is this way, Shadeslayer?_

Eragon turned to Thorn. "Thorn, if Murtagh tells me his true name, I'll have power over him. I may be able to make it so he cannot die while I'm near. I can stay by his side until his body has produced enough blood to sustain itself."

"No," said Murtagh in his lowest, darkest voice. "Forgive me, Eragon. It's not that I am ungrateful for the suggestion, but I fear that another knowing my true name will just prolong my slavery. One day, either you or Galbatorix will die, and hopefully it will be the king. But if he does die, I will not be free. You will still control me."

Thorn hissed and glared at Murtagh. _Please, young one, listen to Eragon._

"I may control you," began Eragon, "but I will not use your true name. You will have given me complete power over you willingly, and for that I respect you.You must trust me, Murtagh. I will not turn you into my slave. Upon my word as a rider." He repeated his words in the Ancient Language.

Murtagh grew dizzy again, only this time it was accompanied with a piercing headache. A new wave of tiredness crashed down on him, and he could hardly focus. "I'll decide when I wake up, Eragon," he muttered drowsily.

Katrina jumped up. "No! Please, stay awake!" She shook him violently.

"Remember, Murtagh," said Eragon. "By refusing to give me your true name, you have agreed to not only letting yourself die, but also your dragon."

He hadn't thought about Thorn. _Thorn…_

_Yes, Murtagh?_

_Oh, Thorn! What should I do?_

The dragon snorted. _Well, it is obvious, young one. Give him your true name._

_But he will use it against us in combat!_Cried Murtagh. _We will be at an unfair advantage!_

_Little one,_ soothed Thorn, _do not worry about such now. Whether you give him permission or not, I will tell him your true name._

Murtagh, his mind floating, suddenly was swept with yet another wave of exhaustion. His body cried out to sleep. He didn't care anymore about what would happen; he just wanted to pass out. He muttered his consent to Thorn, and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

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**A/N:** Well, that's the chapter! This was suppose to be the last one, but I editted it, so now it's the second to last one! Lol, I lied last chapter. NEXT chapter is the last one.

I originally killed off Murtagh in this chapter, but

One) I didn't want to be flamed

Two) I couldn't figure out how to kill him properly in Helgrind. So, yeah, I'm still debating whether he dies or not...

ANYWHO... Incase you haven't noticed, I've **temporarily **changed my name! Mrs. Morzansson was getting somewhat tiring, so I changed it. I hated how it sent people the instant impression that Murtagh would always have the happily ever after in my stories. But, I HAVE been known to kill him off, and people find it weird when he dies cuz my name is MRS. MORZANSSON. The thing I DID like about my name, though, was that it was funny, so it attracted reviewers! xD It was originally suppose to be a joke, my penname. Instead it made people think I worshipped the guy like some kind of god... which I don't, he's just my favorite. :)

**Anywho, PLEASE REVIEW!! You'll never know if Murtagh lives or dies unless you review!! Because like I said, there's a 50/50 chance he dies. Tell me how you think it should end. But I think I know how you wanted it to end. Happily ever after...**


	11. Just Memories

**A/N: I'm back!!**Unfortunate;y, I went to the Friday Night football game, SO I didn't get this posted before Brisingr came out! So if you bother to read this because your like me and you ordered it over the internet so it won't come for another week, please read!! **AND NO BRISINGR SPOILERS OR I'LL HURT YOU.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. Only reason I would would be to give Murtagh the happily ever after- NOT ERAGON. UGH.**

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**Chapter 11-** Just Memories

The blackness was consuming but not numbing. The pain in his head no longer pierced his skull like a nail, but had morphed into a dull throbbing that he just wished to soothe. The rest of his body felt oddly relaxed, as if he were floating on a fluffly white cloud. He could have just lay there – if he was laying, for he was not sure – and basked in the fact only his head hurt slightly, but there was another force present, and it wasn't his dragon. It wasn't an evil force, that was definite, but nonetheless he did not enjoy it one bit. It was like another chain wrapped unusually loose around his skull and weighing him down. He fuzzily pondered on what the force could be. It felt so different yet so familiar. And it wasn't a happy familiar- it was a dreadful deja-vu feeling he received. It reminded him oddly of the time he spent with the Twins, tied up with a thick leather rope, helplessly struggling to break free from the bonds, but in the end he just became more tangled than beforehand.

Voices engulfed him, hushed murmurs of people not wanting to wake a sick patient. Light flickered red in the darkness, and before he comprehended, the blackness had transformed into a redish-orange color. Groggily, a realization dawned upon him:

_I'm alive._

As the words floated through his mind, his eyelids instinctively snapped open and flickered widely around the room to examine his surroundings. He was in an offwhite room with a few extinguished candles and closed red drapes. He propped up on his elbows and noticed he was lieing on a thin blue mattress in the small area.

"He's awake," grunted a well-known voice. Eragon? "You all right, Murtagh?"

Murtagh rubbed his eyes and fell back down on his mattress. "How the bloody hell am I alive?" he croaked. He cleared his throat.

"Thorn," replied Eragon curtly standing beside Murtagh's form. "He revealed to me your true name."

_Revealed to me._He made it sound like some prize. Which Murtagh supposed his true name was. When your enemy had the power to control your every move, it sure as hell would be classified as a perk. A damn good one at that.

Staring at the ceiling, Murtagh decided not to dwell on the furture just yet. He needed to worry about getting healthy again. "I see. And have you 'revealed' my true name to any others?"

"Of course not, Murtagh," said Eragon. He furrowed his brown in concern and gently pushed Murtagh back down. "Lie down, Red Rider. You must rest."

"Where's Thorn?"

"Must you ask so many question!" huffed Roran, exasperated.

Murtagh glared at him. "Forgive me, I was merely attempting to understand how in all of Alagaesia I ended up on this blue mat in the middle of an offwhite room I've never seen before."

"You passed out, Murtagh," whispered Eragon. "We didn't think you would wake back up… After you fell asleep, I mutterred your true name in hopes that it would prevent you from dying. It worked; you somehow kept breathing the whole flight back down to Dras Leona, and now here you are awake in a healer's chamber after losing such a copious amount of blood you should have died hours ago. You have been unconcious for about four hours."

"That's it?" said Murtagh. He rubbed his head, running his fingers through his sweaty brown locks. He examined the people in the chamber again. There was Roran, in his batterred clothes, and Eragon with equally worn garments, but his appeared to have a tad bit more blood on his.

Murtagh himself was in but his leggings. As he sat up, the thin, scratchy tan sheet covering him fell to the floor, revealing his knotted white scar marring his muscled back. He scanned his arms, surprised to see much of the color had returned in them. He tried to stand, but his vision swam, and he saw black dots speckling his eyesight. He collapsed and crawled under the scratchy covers. "Where is Katrina?"

"She's resting," responded Roran threateningly. "She's had a long few months and she needs some relaxation. Leave her be."

"Oh, fuss fuss," whined a high pitched voice. Katrina entered Murtagh's chamber in a blue dress and apron she had borrowed from the healer's cook. Surveying their expressions upon seeing her she said, "Do not mind me. I was merely wondering whether he had awoken yet."

"Perfect timing," chimed Murtagh. "I just woke up."

Katrina's eyes shone with a hidden relief. Glaring at Roran and Eragon individually, she stared them down until the exited the room grudgingly.

"My dear," said Roran on his way out, "do you think this is perhaps the smartest idea? He may very well be loopy and unstable with the blood he's lost."

"I can take care of myself, Roran," she said assertively. "You have no need to worry. I'll have my guard up."

Roran appeared flustered, but seeing Katrina make up her mind, he knew he would be unable to change it. "I shall go then. Please hurry, my love. I am anxious to speak with you." He bowed and vanished out the door; Katrina clicked it shut behind him.

As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Katrinaknelt down besides Murtagh and dabbed his forehead with her apron. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, I suppose," he mumbled, smiling up at her. "I was scared I would not wake up to see your face again. I thought you were gone forever."

Katrina flushed and grasped his hand gently but firmly. "Listen to me, Murtagh. I am afraid I have some sorrowful news."

Murtagh sighed, already knowing what 'news' she would deliver. "Are you leaving with Roran?"

Katrina examined the dusty floorboards guiltily. "Yes, Murtagh. I...I feel terrible. He has done so much for me, and I repay him by abandoning him for his cousin. I love both of you equally as deep, Murtagh, but Roran was here first. Do you understand?"

Murtagh unsuccessfully tried to conceal his sadness. "Yes, I understand, Katrina. It was too good to last."

"Agreed," chuckled Katrina sadly. Kneeling, she bent over and embraced him affectionately. "I will always love you, Murtagh. But I will always love Roran, too."

"I understand," whispered the Red Rider miserably. "You deserve him, all right? Eragon and Roran will take you to a safe rebel town. You will be so much happier with him and so much safer."

"I know I will be safer, but I do not think I'll be happier." She sighed into his chest. "But then again, I don't think I'll be less happy with him." She laughed. "When I first lay eyes on you, I thought you were the gods telling me not to die in that rat hole? I think they sent you to let me know someone cared about my well being, about whether I was taken care of, checking to see I wasn't hurt. I kept feeling like I would starve to death before Roran came to save me, if he ever miraculously managed to survive passed the Ra'zac. You kept me going, Morzansson."

"When I first lay eyes on you," recalled Murtagh with a weak smile, "I remember thinking how cruel Galbatorix was, leaving those barbaric bird-_things_ to keep you company. You were so sweet, but you had a fire about you that reminded me so much of myself. But my flame died a while back. Never let _anyone_ break your spirit, Katrina."

Katrina's eyes were overflowing now. She dampened Murtagh's chest with her warm tears, leaving him stained with the last tears he most likely would ever see her cry. "We're leaving as soon as you have produced enough blood to survive without Eragon near."

"But Katrina," said Murtagh quietly. "I already have. The color has almost all come back to me – and in the matter of hours."

She helped him stand up; he staggered some, but after a few moments his blood regulated, and he could walk without much problem. Outside the hall waiting for them were Eragon and Roran. Murtagh smiled to Eragon and bowed; to Roran, he did not know how exactly to act, so he gave him a respectful nod that his cousin returned. "I suppose you will be departing soon."

Eragon quietly nodded. "Yes, Saphira is already saddled and prepared for flight. All she needs are her passengers."

Everyone was silent for a moment. "Take care, Eragon, Roran...Katrina."

"Take care," they all murmured in response. The four silently stalked passed several rooms, some filled with patients, others were dining halls, and one appeared suspiciously like a drawing room. Alas, sunlight hit their eyes full blast as they walked into the courtyard were Saphira stood awaiting take off. Thorn's creamy back spikes could be seen protruding behind a large building to their left.

The three destined to depart hesitated before climbing Saphira's back. Roran turned to his cousin, who was watching them gloomily. He bowed polite yet cold. "I pray you make a full recovery Rider."

Murtagh just nodded. "I pray you can forgive me for…trespassing to what is yours, cousin. Please accept my apology…and take care of her."

Roran, surprisingly, smiled. "I will, Rider. I promise you." Murtagh smiled and thanked him. With that, Roran pivoted and climbed onto Saphira and saddled in.

Eragon walked up to Murtagh smirking slightly. "Look, I'm sorry about finding out your true name."

Murtagh shrugged. "It's quite all right, but I have but postponed my death. Have I not, Shadeslayer?" A glint in his eye meant the next time they battle.

"Yes, well…I'll have a clear advantage. But I won't use your name, Murtagh, I'll win fair and square."

Murtagh kicked a pebble lieing innocently at his feet. "No, Eragon, you'll use it." It wasn't as much an assumption as an order. "Just remember the king's weak point is his right shoulder. He injured it years ago and didn't heal it in time. Thrust the sword right there."

Eragon's guilt was unmasked on his face. _Would_he use Murtagh's true name against him? _Probably,_he thought. "I'll remember…my brother." He shoved Murtagh's shoulder playfully and Murtagh returned it. "I wish you could see the Varden now. It has changed so much since the fall of Ajihad."

"I imagine. That was a…hard day." But not for the reasons he mentioned. "I have missed you."

"Aye," grunted Eragon. "I have missed you, too."

Murtagh snapped a picture of Eragon in his mind, to memorize his face. The next time he saw his brother would most likely be through a helm.

Eragon, not knowing what to say, gave Murtagh an awkward "Goodbye," and toppled onto Saphira.

Katrina trudged her way down to her lover's cousin and tried to hug Murtagh, but he backed away, not wanting his apology to Roran to be dismissed. Katrina appeared somewhat hurt but understanding. "Well, umm…"

"We had some fun," said Murtagh.

"And a few torture sessions."

They laughed. Murtagh wanted to embrace her and tell her he loved her once more, but he knew he couldn't. "I'll see you again one day," was what he settled on.

Katrina smiled. "I hope that day will come soon."

"Agreed," replied Murtagh. He held her hand for a second and stared deep into her eyes. "May that day come soon. I'll think about you until then."

Katrina's eyes became glassy, and she turned away so he wouldn't see her crying. She slowly walked to Saphira, and Eragon helped her strap herself in. She gave Murtagh one last glance.

Saphira's legs pushed against the ground strongly and flapped her wings until she was but a peck in the distance.

They were leaving him, that's for sure, but as Murtagh watched them shrink in the pale blue, cloud-filled sky, he couldn't help grinning. They were gone. Katrina was gone- but he would see her again. Whether as friends, enemies, lovers, new in-laws, he would see her again.

And that's all that mattered.

* * *

**A/N:**Well, that's it! The story! I'm a lttle pissed that I went to the football game last night because not only did we surprisingly lose 34-0, but because I finished this story the day Brisingr comes out! You know what that means? **It means I won't get a lot of reviews!! **Well, if you don't have your copy yet, PLEASE _REVIEW!!_ I just need to know you actually read it still. I would like to thank **AdriaDara, Canadian-Girl14, FE Frog, WingedXForever, Jasmine.Flowers, xlilypadsx, JoshK1o25, and firedragon315** for reviewing majority of the chapters. If you reviewed most chapter and I didn't post up your name, let me know because I'm really sorry!! :(

Did you like the ending? Cheesy? Crappy? Lame? I suck at endings, so it's probably lame. xD Just let me know!!


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